


Their Little Angel

by SGsVamp



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Angel Sex, Angel Wings, Angel/Human Relationships, Angelic Grace Kink (Supernatural), Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), Bisexual Dean Winchester, British Men of Letters (Supernatural) Being Assholes, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Castiel is Protective of Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Dean Winchester Can't Say "I Love You", Dean Winchester Has Internalized Homophobia, Domestic Fluff, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Homophobic John Winchester, Hormonal Dean Winchester, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, I promise there's a happy ending, Implied/Referenced Abortion, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Kidnapping, M/M, Magical Pregnancy, Medical Examination, Medical Procedures, Morning Sickness, Mpreg, Nephilim, Nesting Dean Winchester, Possible Character Death, Pregnant Dean Winchester, Protective Castiel (Supernatural), Protective Dean Winchester, Restraints, Sassy Dean Winchester, Season/Series 12, Spoilers, Supportive Sibling Sam Winchester, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Tortured Castiel (Supernatural), Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:00:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 80,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26174623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SGsVamp/pseuds/SGsVamp
Summary: "You have given me what I needed most. I want to do the same for you," Amara had told him.What if what Dean Winchester had needed most wasn't Mary back, but was for his long coveted Angel to finally be HIS Angel.Of course getting what you wish for is never as simple as it first appears and it isn't long before Dean discovers being with Castiel means getting a hell of a lot more than he bargained for.~~~~~~A Re-write from the start of season 12. Destiel Instead of Mary returning
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 123
Kudos: 242





	1. It Started With A Kiss

**Prologue**

**The Show Must Go On**

Seeing the Angel cry had been truly heartbreaking, Cas had never cried before. Sam hadn’t even known he could.

But losing Dean had broken him.

Months passed since the pyre had been built, since Dean’s wrapped body had been lovingly laid upon it and the flames had engulfed him. The memory of it, Sam would never forget. He’d buried his brother before, of course, but it was nothing like this.

This time Dean was not coming back. 

The Angel that had returned Dean from Hell all those years before, had stood by the fire with an expression so hollow that Sam had almost been waiting for him to climb into the flames and join his lover in death. Because this time there was no soul left to save. Dean was truly gone and there was no Angel, Reaper or crossroads deal that could change that. 

The Angel had stared into the fire, copious amounts of tears spilling down his shaking cheeks, until his legs had given out beneath him. Then he knelt in the dirt, till the flames died and turned all to ash. Still Castiel had stayed.

The sun set and rose and set again. Days and nights passed. Still Castiel had lingered at the spot where Dean’s body had last been on Earth. He’d watched the fire turn him to ash and bit by bit, floated away on the wind, leaving the Angel alone and numb with loss. A shell of what they once were. For the first time since creation he stopped counting the passing of time. 

...

The low rumble of Dean’s beloved Impala was both music to his ears and a stab to his fractured heart. He knew Dean was no longer the one driving her, but for the briefest of moments, Castiel let himself imagine. The reality only made the loss more vivid.

“Cas?”

“Hello Sam,” The Angel’s voice was voided, sounding empty in a way Sam hadn’t heard since he had first met him. It lacked the fierceness and reverence it had back then, but a similarity could be drawn. Though before the somber tone had been due to Castiel’s lack of emotion or rather the inability to express them, not hollow in defense of them. Numbed in his desperation to avoid them. Guarded and closed off to protect himself. The pain of his grief too much for the Angel to bear.

“You need to come back home now.” Sam’s tone was soft but firm, weary from repeating that same line every day he’d come back, hoping this time he would be able break through to the Angel. However, the Angel remained silent, forcing Sam to continue. 

Sam wished he could go easy on the grieving Angel, be more considerate of the inexperienced Castiel’s feelings and give him the time he needed. But the child was growing far too quickly for him to have the luxury and what sort of an Uncle would he be if he allowed their one and only remaining parent to miss any more of their childhood, short as it would be. Dean wouldn't have wanted that.

“Kiddo’s growing so quick, Cas,” Sam stated, far from exaggerating. The hunter had been told that Nephilims grow at their own rate and Dean’s pregnancy had proven that more than once. There were no rules to the speed, it just happened as they needed it to. It had been a shock to the first-time Uncle when he had found a toddler in the crib, where he had left an infant the night before. “You’re missing so much.”

“I know, Sam,” The numbness was newly edged with sadness and guilt as Cas replied. He’d let down Dean and now he was letting down their child. But he just couldn’t. His throat tightened as the threatened emotions welled up. Even thinking about it was too much. “I - I can’t...” 

“You have to eventually. Now’s as good a time as any,” Sam said, pausing in hope that he wouldn’t have to continue what needed to be said. He wanted to remind Castiel that it had been Dean’s choice to keep the baby, even knowing how unlikely his chances were of surviving a Nephilim birth. But he already knew what the Angel’s response would be.

Cas would state that it was him that had impregnated Dean with the child that had killed him. He had allowed Dean to bear his offspring and he, Castiel, had failed to be strong enough when Dean had needed him the most. Sam knew all this because he has had the argument before and no matter what facts or counter-arguments Sam presented and pushed for on the Angel’s behalf, Cas just wouldn’t listen. Stubbornly refusing to be swayed from his self-inflicted guilt. 

Reassurance hadn’t worked, but maybe a healthy dose of tough love might, Sam hoped. What else could he do? He had to try. “You’re a father Cas, and you need to start acting like one.”

“You don’t understand, Sam,” Cas said, turning away, avoiding the human’s gaze, like he couldn’t face the sad honesty in the hunter’s expression, afraid it would break his resolve, shatter the fragile barrier he’d erected to protect him from what was threatening to tear at his heart.

“Then explain it to me!” Sam snapped, sleep deprivation from caring for an infant, solo, reducing the fuse of his temper to practically zero. “Tell me why you’re letting your daughter grow up without either of her Fathers.”

“Because I can’t look at her!” Cas shot back, fresh hot tears spilling free as he rounded on the Winchester. 

Sam quickly tried to mask the horrified confusion Castiel’s words caused, grateful that the Angel had quickly looked away so he wouldn’t be able to see it. He waited, sure that there must be more to that statement, a reason that didn’t sound as bad as he was thinking it was right now. “Cas, you can’t- ...She’s innocent. You can’t blame her for what happened.”

“I don’t, I- ” the Angel gasped out in mournful denial. Castiel’s head dropped, a sob catching in his throat as he forced the last few words out. “When I look at her all I see is myself... I don’t want to look at my daughter and see the face of Dean’s killer staring back at me.” 

Again, Sam wanted to argue. Wanted to grab hold of Castiel and shake him till he saw sense. Scream at him that Cas wasn’t responsible. But he held back. Knowing that wouldn’t work, it would get him nowhere. Castiel was too stubbornly set in his guilt ridden blame to see reason. He needed a different approach, one that would get his niece her much needed, only remaining Father. 

It was true. The young Nephilim did look uncannily like Castiel and was only getting more so as she grew. Sam was convinced that once she reached adulthood you could put her in a trench-coat and a backwards tie and pass them off as twins. But when it came to her expressions, and mannerisms, that side of the Nephilim she had inherited, one hundred percent, from Dean. The more the child's personality developed, the more apparent it was becoming. Yet because Castiel had kept himself away and hadn’t seen it.

“I think you need to look again,” Sam said sincerely, quietly catching Cas’ attention, dragging him briefly away from his guilty wallowing. “Yeah, she’s definitely gotten her looks from you, you two are practically a mirror image of each other... But everything else, Cas, that’s pure Dean... and I'm not just talking about the bowed legs and chewing with their mouths open,” Sam laughed, trying to lighten the mood, in hope that he would get a smile, even a ghost of one to break the tension that was so ripe, he could almost taste it. 

But he was disappointed. Cas just looked at him with questioning eyes. 

He carried on before the silence could get awkward. “She’s Dean’s kid, Cas, through and through. He’s just as much a part of her as you are. And if you’d just spend some time together, you’d see just how much of Dean is still with us.”

As if to prove her Uncle’s point the Nephilim let out a loud demanding cry, muffled from the confines of the car interior. Just like her Dad, the kiddo wasn’t about to let anything make her late for a meal. 

Sam ran his fingers through his unwashed hair in frustration, before striding wearily back the short distance to the Impala. The cries got louder, drowning out the squeak of the car door as it opened, but he hesitated before getting in, looking over to Castiel hopefully. 

“Are you comin’ or not?”

**One Year Earlier** ****

" _You've given me what I needed most. I want to do the same for you." - Amara_ ****

**Chapter One**

**It Started With A Kiss**

Dean's boots clanged noisily as he descended the metal stairs, echoing into the heart of the seemingly desolate bunker. Smiling, he took a moment to appreciate the reality and inhaled a deep lungful. Damn it was good to be back. When he had last left with his body choked to bursting point with stolen souls, a walking, ticking human time bomb on a suicide mission, he hadn't expected to walk back through that door and even the ventilated air smelled amazing.

He was alive. He was home.

For once everything had gone without death, or leaving them all in a far worse situation than they had been to begin with. He hadn't had to give his life to save the world. It was a win - in every way. Which may have been a first for the brothers and certainly the closest to a happy ending a Winchester was ever going to get.

The library was empty, no sign of Sam. Considering the late hour, Dean's not surprised. He had gotten back as quickly as he was able to find a car and jump it, but Chuck had dumped him off in the middle of buttfuck nowhere, so it had taken a while to get his bearings. It's disappointing, but not unexpected that there wasn't anyone there to welcome him home. Sam had clearly been busy though. The table was loaded full of research material that hadn't been there when they had left to face Amara. Many seemed to be open to pages depicting various accounts of resurrections. It would seem that despite the impossibility of changing it, Sam was not just going to accept Dean's presumed death.

He's thumbing at a few of the unnecessary volumes when a deep, familiar voice breaks the peaceful silence.

"Dean?"

Even edged in a shocked tone of surprised delight, Cas' voice seemed to short circuit all the higher functions of the hunters brain. The deep resonating sound heading straight south and stirring his insides, stunning him momentarily into speechlessness.

Before he could respond, or do anything more than simply glance Cas’ way, Dean found himself encapsulated in a tightly clinging Angelic embrace. 

He didn't need conscious thought, or the ability to speak, to instinctively lean into the hug. Bringing his arms around Cas, pulling his secretly converted Angel that bit closer, he hid a secret grin as Cas' soft hair caught on his stubble and tickled his cheek. 

It was good to be home.

"I thought you were dead."

The tremor in Cas' voice pulled on Dean's heart strings and gave him cause to kick his brain back into gear. Enough to remember that the last time they had seen each other was while saying their goodbyes. Castiel would have seen the sun clear and assumed what that meant. The sun had set long since then and all the while Cas had been grieving, not knowing that his grief was needless.

"I'm okay, man," Dean whispered into Cas' neck softly, laying a soothing hand between the Angel's shoulders, almost able to feel the relief wash through them both. "Bomb wasn't necessary."

"And Amara?" The fear was lessened, replaced with a worry, that Dean was almost certain that no one but him would detect. So attuned to Cas that he was.

"Gone with Chuck for some sibling bonding... It's over, Cas. It's over," Dean soothed, letting the hand that was holding Cas close gently start rubbing up and down the Angel's spine, surprised when Cas pressed himself in even closer despite the reassurance.

He rarely allowed himself to think about Cas the way he truly wanted to, but right at that moment, with the Angel's body pressed in so closely with his own, he indulged, just a little.

Feelings towards Cas had started developing the first time Dean had laid eyes on the Angel. Even after all these years he could remember the moment in precise detail - The air heavy with raw power, as the worn out doors splintered inwards and Castiel has stroad purposefully towards them, his eyes laser focused. The earthy smell of the old barn, sawdust, paint and rot, overpowered by the gunpowder from salt rounds from his and Bobby's shotguns. The sparks from the blown lights overhead that shone all the brighter as the shadows magnified, leaving spots in his vision. Mustering all of his strength he had driven Ruby's blade deep into the Angel's chest, leaving only the hilt sticking out. A deadly blow had Cas been human or demon and Dean was left staring dumbfounded in shocked realization when nothing had happened. Castiel hadn't cried out, screamed, gone up in flames, lightning hadn't flared under his skin lighting his skeleton. Nothing. Son of a bitch hadn't even flinched.

That was the first time Dean had found himself caught in the most penetrating stare from the bluest eyes, that even in the darkness of the barn hadn't dulled. He would get used to being looked at with such intensity over the years, but in that first time he remembered his stomach flip flopping in nervous excitement, his heart pounding till it was all he could hear, in a way that had nothing to do fear, and thinking Castiel was the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on.

Dean had never been a believer of the whole 'love at first sight' thing, that was something that was reserved for chick flicks and garbage romance novels, as far as he was concerned. It just didn't happen in real life. So he had assumed (in the beginning) that the feelings that had bubbled up inside of him, under Cas' penetrating gaze, was some kind of Angelic reverence thing. Some hypnotic pull that could draw humans to the celestial beings, that had caused that new and unexpected feeling. But that assumption had been thrown out the window when he had met the other Angels and that experience had been nothing like meeting Cas. Quite the opposite in fact, he thought the rest of them were dicks and that was putting it mildly.

It wasn't Angelic, it was only Cas.

Over the years those feelings had only developed deeper. Growing from a mere, yet strong and unexpected, attraction, to a friendship and onto something more profound. Yet Dean pushed them down, hiding it from everyone, including himself - Mostly. He tried to think of Cas as his brother, a brother in arms, but also family. But every now and then when he thought no one was looking, or when he found himself trapped in that soul piercing stare, or while being embraced like he was right now, like he was the most precious thing in the world, only then did he allow himself to indulge in the fantasy.

Dean wouldn't have thought it was possible, but Cas' grip tightened further still, like he didn't want the embrace to end anytime soon, keeping their chests pressed tight together with only the multiple layers of their combined clothing (which Dean was currently cursing) separating them. He'd love to just lose those shirts and feel Cas' skin, warm and smooth against his own. Run his hands over the Angel's bare back, finally know what's been hiding under that trench and suit all theses years and feel every inch of -

Whoa!

He reined in his wildly escaping thoughts before they could escape him completely and make it all the way down to the gutter. That wouldn't do him any good and there was already a stirring down south that wouldn't go unnoticed if it was given any more stimulation. He'd fantasies about Castiel in far more compromising position than just bare-chested in his arms (He's sure that some of the ones that he'd had indulged in would earn him a one way trip to hell if Heaven ever found out just how he'd imagined an Angel of the Lord inside his head - If the dicks even cared) and knows just how quickly mere thoughts can have a physical effect on him, and that had to be... inappropriate or something. It was definitely crossing some invisible line at least, especially since the dude clearly needed comfort.

"Hey, okay, alright," Dean said dismissively, giving the Angel a gentle slap between his shoulders, signalling that the hug was over. Quickly pulling back he held Cas at arms length, before he could let their closeness cause him to get carried away any further.

The expression he finds now he can finally see his friends face is not one he likes. Castiel looks emotionally wrung out. So many expressions crossing the Angel's features, like he just can't decide how he feels, or how to express it; the fear, pain, longing, barely marked behind weary eyes, that peer up at him like they can't quite believe what he is seeing. It was endearing and heartbreaking in equal measures and the hunter couldn't bear it. On anyone else that expression would be terrible to witness, on an Angel... it was just plain wrong. He had to fix it. So, without giving it much thought, if any thought at all, Dean brought his hand up to gently cup Cas' jaw, closed his eyes and pressed his lips to the front of the Angel's cheek. Intending nothing more than to prove to Cas that he was here, he was safe, trying to ease that worriedly pained look that is completely dominating the Angel's features. Nothing wrong with a peck on the cheek to give a friend some comfort, right? That's all it was, a friendly peck.

But as his lips met skin, Cas turned. It's a tiny movement, a subtle shift, but causes Dean to miss his intended target. Stubble lightly grazes across his lips, before... For the second time since he had gotten back to the bunker, Dean is stunned into silence, not that he wanted to speak at the moment, his mouth if far too occupied with something far more enjoyable, but even if he did he knew he wouldn't be able to think of a single thing to say. He freezes, shocked into complete motionlessness, mind flung out to the stratosphere, leaving behind only one realization.

Cas kissed him.

Was kissing him.

Warm, soft yet chapped Angelic lips were pressing into his own. Their noses smooshed awkwardly together, which would make Dean think that this had been completely accidental on Cas' part, had it not been for the fact that the Angel's lips were pursed, gently yet deliberate pushing against his. Their solitary connection, mouth to mouth, was all he could feel. The rest of his body numb, all feeling gone to whatever distant place his conscious thoughts had gone to before them. All there is...is Cas. Cas' lips clinging to his like the last liferaft. Cas' breath merging with his, breathing each other in. Cas' fresh airy scent overpowering all others. He smelt like spring, and hope. Butterflies the size of fighter jets explode in his stomach, spreading out in a warm excited feeling of pure arousal. It's completely flooding what little of his scenes remained and leaving him helpless to collect together his rapidly escaping thoughts.

"Dean?"

Briefly, Dean wonders how Cas was able to speak without moving his lips, before realising that the kiss has ended. Cas isn't pressing into him anymore and Dean's frozen with his lips still pursed against nothing but air. He's panting, with his eyes still lightly closed, the taste of Cas still lingering on his oversensitive, tingling lips and he missed the feeling already. Brief as it was, it was intoxicating, leaving Dean craving more. The kiss of his Angel was worryingly addictive.

He snaps his eyes open, blinking in confusion as he's unwillingly forced back to reality. A reality where Cas was studying him closely. Speedily drinking in every detail of the hunters conflicted features. It wasn't the usual stare that he had gotten used to from the Angel, the fiercely concentrated one where he felt like the Angel could see into his soul and read his every thought. The one that he found so impossibly hard to break away from, that it was almost hypnotic. No, this look was nothing like that, it was brief, innocent and almost sad, before his eyes shyly dropped. "That was inappropriate. I'm sorry."

"Cas?" Dean swallows dryly, trying to force his uncooperative tongue, that seemed to have grown several sizes too big for his mouth to form words. Any words. Absolutely any other words. There's so much that he wants to say, but the Angel's name seemed to be all that was left in his vocabulary.

The room fell silent apart from Dean's panted breaths. He could almost feel the tense seconds tick by with every adrenaline fueled thump in his chest, every rush of air that was further drying his lips and parched throat. Before something snapped inside of him, as his brain suddenly surged to life, lunging to a new clarity, as if it had been under water his entire life and was only now breaking the surface, breathing for the first time. Nerves shattered and disappeared, leaving behind only a pull on every instinct he had, lurching his mind forwards into confident resolve. He didn't know where it came from, and in that moment he didn't care, all he knew for absolute certainty was that whatever this was between Cas and him, it was meant, it was pure, it was mutual. In that moment he knew that more completely than he knew his own name.

"No, it wasn't and don't apologize." His voice was confident, husky as he closed the small distance between them. Cas' eyes shot up, meeting Deans in hopeful surprise, only to slam closed a second later after the hunters lips came to his for the second time.

Dean intended the kiss to be a gentle one for both their sakes. Despite his fierce resolve, he was highly aware that they were entering uncharted territory and it never hurt to be cautious. Sure his nerves seemed to have taken a road trip to some unknown distant location and his mind seemed to be short-circuiting like a faulty fuse box, but that doesn't mean he was thoughtless.

Cas was far less experienced with romantic encounters then he was. Only two, as far as the hunter knew and both women had been using the Angel for their own personal gain in some way. Cas' tongue tangle with Meg and the following intrusion into his life had been because the Demon needed allies and what better ally than an actual Warrior of Heaven, even if the Angel hadn't been fully sane at the time. And then there had been that Reaper bitch who had literally pumped him for information, before killing him.

The Angel had never been kissed by someone who truly cared for him before.

However pure Dean's intentions were it seemed Castiel was not on the same page. He dove into the kiss hungrily, claiming and surrendering. There's a hand combing fingers in the short hairs at the back of his neck, holding him close as if worried the kiss would disappear if given the chance. Another gripping his hip with strong fingers, keeping their lower halves flushed just as tightly together as their waltzing lips and Dean felt the ground slip away from beneath him, before his back slams against something hard and solid. Jaring their lips apart on impact.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Dean takes the opportunity to ask breathlessly, though he can see the answer in the Angel's eyes, read it in his expression, feel it in his eagerness, but he needs to hear it out loud to put the one last shred of his doubts fully to rest.

Cas tilted his head, brow pucker and seemed to be contemplating the question, very carefully. "I've never been more sure about anything."

Castiel’s words were a whispered promise, no hint of uncertainty and relief washes through him. A breath hadn't been aware of holding escapes, uncontrolled honest words chasing after, "Me either," before their lips locked together once again, in a near urgent eagerness.

Dean's previous hesitancy all but gone, striving to keep up with Cas' enthusiasm. The Angel's mouth moving against his in near perfect symmetry, making Dean wonder if it's too soon to up the ante, when Cas beats him to it and the Angel's tongue slides effortlessly into his mouth, like it's always belonged there.

"Hey, get this. I may have found something."

At the sound of Sam's voice Dean jerks back, breaking the kiss and shoving Cas away, roughly. Wiping his swollen mouth with his sleeve, his wide guilty eyes track his brother as he enters the room. With his head down, nose in a book, Sam seems unaware of the scene he had just stumbled in on, while Dean tries to get hold of his breathing and hopes the heat rising over his head wasn't a telltale blush.

When he didn't get a response, Sam looked up and his eyes nearly bugged out of his skull. "Dean?"

Dean found himself in the second crushing shocked hug of the evening, his brother's voice coming in startled relief from over his shoulder. "We thought you were dead."

"So I've heard," Dean replied casually, trying to keep his breathlessness from his voice.

Sam silently chuckled at his brother's unperturbed dismissal, it was just Dean's way. He laughed off the seriousness, made jokes out of the dire and it was comforting to know that Dean was back in every sense. With a mental shrug Sam tossed the now not needed book onto the table along with the others.

Giving his brother's shoulder a firm pat, Sam pulled back out of their hug and took in the sight of him that his shock hadn't allowed him to fully register before. Glancing back and forth between his brother and the Angel he noticed their mutual rumpled hair, swollen lips and disheveled clothing... and the blush that had taken over Dean's whole face, neck and ears, as well as his 'hand caught in the cookie jar' wide-eyed expression.

"Did I?" Sam paused hesitantly. After all these years, would it be too much to hope for that, they had finally got their heads out of their respected asses and admitted to each other what was so abundantly clear to everyone else around them. "... Am I interrupting something?"

"No," Dean replied, too quickly for Sam to find it believable. Even if he did, the far from subtle way Castiel jerked his head round to frown at him, clearly offended with Dean's denial, was a dead giveaway.

Dean was hoping Sam hadn't noticed anything, but the way his little brother seemed to be trying, and not quite managing, to hold back a grin didn't fill him with confidence.

"Well, it's been a long day. I'm going to my room to listen to some music. Loudly, with headphones on, so I won't be able to hear anything." With that Sam strolled out of the room, an amused grin dominating his features. He threw a wave over his shoulder. "Night guys."

"Subtle, Sammy!" Dean shouts after him, hearing a chuckle float back to his ears as Sam disappears down the corridor.

**xXxXxXxXx**

Stepping stones of flannel, cotton and denim made a pathway to the bed. All ripped and flung from the hunters body by a very eager Angel on a mission. With every new inch of skin that is revealed Cas marveled. Dean Winchester was a work of art. Out of everything he'd ever seen in all his father's creation this human was the most beautiful, in Castiel's opinion. This soul, so pure, so bright, completely flawless, with a pull on the Angel to match the gravity of the sun, housed in a body that mirrored it's perfection. He had rebuilt this body for Dean at his resurrection, he had rejoined it with Dean's soul. He knew both, down to the most minimal detail, knew the precise placement of each and every freckle - every cell, every molecule. But to know it intimately, to be able to touch, to feel and stroke. To caress him, bare beneath his hands, unmasked from the coverings of inferior clothing that were not worthy of touching such beauty. This was a deeply converted treasure of delicate hardness he had been sure he would never get to fully discover.

Dean's head was reeling, completely at his wits end, unable to keep up with Cas' speeded progress. He could swear blind that he was fully dressed only seconds before, now the only thing covering his skin was his underwear and Cas. Cas, who seems to have hands everywhere, covering more of his body than his clothes ever had. There's hands caressing his back, his sides, his chest, sliding up and down smoothly. There's lips and - Jesus fuck - tongue and teeth on his throat, as the caresses slip lower... Dean's breath caught, a gasp stuck in his throat, as Cas' hands slipped, without any hesitancy, beneath the waistband of his boxers, stroking firmly over the skin of his ass and pushing down his last remaining piece of his material protection.

Strong sure hands scoop under his naked thighs and the floor vanishes from beneath his feet as he's lifted, effortlessly. Startled, he grappled at the Angel's shoulders, but before he could get purchase he's thrown back, landing with a soft bounce face up on the bed. Cas chases him up, crawling over him, until their lips collide again, wet, open and urgent.

It's all going far too quickly for Dean when all he wants to do is take things slow, savior each and every moment, drink in and commit every single tiny detail to memory. As much as the heat between them is driving him to eagerly wanting more he doesn't want things over too soon. Dammit he'd waited years for this, so what was a few minutes longer in comparison.

And Cas was still wearing far too much clothing.

He turns his attention to planting open mouthed kisses along Cas' jaw line, so he can attempt to take some control and slow things down, while giving his uncoordinated, overexcited fingers a chance to loosen Cas' backwards tie and give his head time to stop spinning. Because he's losing his mind. Being naked, being pressed down into memory foam by the Angel, a highly aroused Angel if the hardness grinding into his hip is anything to go by. An Angel he's wanted so badly, fantasied about so often, for years, it was hard to believe, impossible to believe that this is actually happening.

A soft gasp leaves the Angel's lips and he stills, eyes dropping closed, head lolling, as Dean reaches the spot just below his ear and Dean makes a mental note to return to that spot later, but for now there is so much more of his Angel to uncover and explore. He takes advantage of Cas' momentary distraction and pauses his tasting of Castiel's throat only to pull the tie over his head, before returning to that delicious skin, while his hands slip up around Cas' shoulders beneath his jacket trying to rid the Angel of two layers in one motion. But they bunch up below Cas shoulder blades, effectively trapping the Angel's elbow to his side and Cas had to back up to lose the clothes pinning his arms down.

With his eyes fixed on the breathless human below, Cas frees himself of the offending clothing, and goes to retake his position on top of Dean, but the hunter has other ideas. Seizing his opportunity, he surges up, planting his lips to Cas', pushing back against the Angel, making just enough of a gap between them so he could work the buttons of Cas' shirt open.

Now Dean can really take his time. Slowing the kiss till Cas is groaning, while he plucks the buttons open one by one, letting the backs of his fingers play over Cas' firm chest and stomach, drinking in the feel of every new part of Cas' torso that's revealed on Dean's southern journey.

Reluctantly he removed his lips from Cas' as he popped open the last button. Laying back to stare up at Cas propped over him, fists either side of his head. He let the white dress shirt fall open, revealing the Angel's impressive chest. Dean had learnt long ago that he enjoyed firm muscles just as much as soft curves, but with Cas... it was something new all together. His hands move almost on autopilot, discarding the shirt and then grasping over abs and pecs, feeling the muscles tense with his touch under smooth flawless skin. 

Tugging Cas lower, Dean's open mouthed kisses follow just after, tasting and teasing. Cas' eyes rolled back in his skull, as Dean found and sucked a nipple between his teeth, feeling against his lips a groan rumbled through Cas' chest.

"You okay there?" Dean can't help but ask, a cheeky smile playing on his lips because he already knows the answer, even before Cas replied with a quick nod, like he can't form words around his panting breaths, wafting over Dean's overheated skin.

His eyes slide languidly open, unveiling that impossible blue and Dean's immediately drawn in. He's been lost in Cas' gaze so many times before, but never like this. It's never been so exposeingly intimate and he'd never seen lust reflected back in dilated pupils. He keeps his gaze locked, as he slides his hands down, smoothing palms over the firm soft skin, until he reaches the Angel's waist. Slowly, he works open Cas' belt, dropping lower to slide down the fly. Cas' arms are tense, holding up the Angel's weight, but the soft sigh he lets out encourages Dean onwards. Cas is already hard when he slips his hand in, lightly grasping him round the base draws a staggered gasp from the Angel's mouth. Sliding effortlessly over the hard length, it doesn't take more than a few pumps for Cas' hips to start instinctively thrusting into his fist. But shortly after, Cas seems to lose patients, or needs more closeness, whatever the reason the results are the same. He dives down, one hand grasping at Dean's hip and the other sliding up underneath and between Dean’s shoulder blades, crushing their bodies flush together and Dean had to wriggle his hand out before it got trapped in between them. The Angel's hips still in motion now grinding down against Dean's own erection. His lips clamp to Dean's own, swallowing the hunters gasp.

All Dean's will to hold back and go slow dissolves into simple hot driven desire. The delicious friction, the heat, the weight of Cas firmly pressed down into him, the pleasured moans pulled from the Angel with every roll of powerful hips, it was all building, adding to tightness in his stomach. His orgasm threateningly close. This was going to be over all too soon.

"We can just do this," Dean pants through the pleasure, "or we can do more, it's your call, Cas."

The Angel pauses, straightening his arms, he raises up so he can look into Dean's eyes. "More, Dean. I want all of it... with you." 

It's a whispered prayer from the lips of an Angel and Dean gasps out without thought, quickly shaking his head, to clear it, before he drifts away again.

It takes him all of a second to decide. Nearly everyone can top, but bottoming was more of an acquired taste and not something he wanted to rush a novice into, especially when that novice was Cas. Dean had only ever topped before, never had any interest, or even considered trying the reverse role. Even if he had, he doubted he would have trusted any man he's been with to put himself in that vulnerable position. They had all been quick hook ups, one night stands and definitely not guys he'd want to be intimate with in that way, especially not for his first time. But Cas - Cas he trusted with so much more. Cas he'd trust with his life.

It felt right, that Cas would be his first time receiving, that Cas was going to be the first inside him. _Cas was going to be inside him_ \- A jolt of excited arousal shot to his groin, making his dick twitch eagerly at just the thought.

"Okay. Lose the pants," Dean instructed quickly, nodding down to the Angels lower half. Cas followed his gaze, frowning as if confused how the remaining of the clothes had out lasted all the others.

While Cas scrambled out of the rest of his clothing, Dean twisted on to his side, stretching to reach the drawer at the bedside. He rummages around at the back, finally snagging the tube he's searching for he turns back to Cas, finding the Angel sat back on his haunches, unashamed in his nakedness. He swallows nervously at the sight of the hard member standing proudly against the Angel's stomach. Cas was large, not tyrannosaurus prick large, but certainly bigger than Dean expected considering the Angel's athletic frame and it wasn't the starter kit size that would be ideal for a first time in his virgin hole. But it was going to hurt regardless of size, right? And there was no way Dean was going to back out or let a little apprehension change his mind now. He has wanted this for far too long to let nerves stand in his way.

Taking Cas' wrist, he tugs him closer, fumbling with the lid, before coating the Angel's fingers generously. "You have to open me up," he breathes, emphasizing each word carefully, "Start with one and work up."

Cas' nod of understanding is so small it is almost invisible. Almost. But Dean is watching so closely he sees it. "I understand the mechanics of it Dean."

"Okay," he breathed out, a near sigh of relief. Cas' calm reassurance helps to ease the pounding of his heart that he's sure the Angel will be able to hear also, because of course he's nervous, he's never done this before. He's going to be fucked for the first time, and by an Angel no less. The whole thing is completely surreal and he is still only half sure it's actually happening and half expecting to wake up any moment.

Leaning back, Dean brings Cas' hand down between them. "Go slow, Cas...I've never... Just go slow, okay?"

Cas nodded through his panting, as Dean let go of his wrist and settled down onto the mattress. But Cas stills, his eyes flitting back and forth between his poised hand and Dean's face, looking just as nervously unsure as Dean is feeling, like he'd just been handed the keys to a million dollar Mercedes, or something far more precious - Baby, and was worried that he couldn't handle the responsibility, or was doubting his ability to handle it.

"We don't have to, Cas," Dean said in a reassuring whisper. The Angel had said he wanted more, all of it, but if he was now thinking it was too much, too soon, Dean wasn't going to push it, wasn't going to force Cas into anything he wasn't ready for, as if he could. "If this is-"

He gulped in a startled breath as Castiel's slicked fingers brushed against his opening, sending a jolt of intense intimacy gushing through him at the smallest of touches.

Propped up on one arm, Castiel watched the hunter below with wrapped attention, fascinated by the reaction he was getting from the teased circling of his finger, while he made sure to spread the lubricant well. The Angel's body was thrumbing with undiluted desire. His hips seemed to have developed a will all of its own, reacting to the stimuli. His genitalia had swollen to the point where it was becoming painful and seemed to be leaking and was driving him to find friction. His breathing shallow, but quick, his skin flushed and his heart was pounding. And Dean's body was reacting in just the same way, except the hunter was also coated in a very fine layer of adrenaline scented sweat.

With his eyes locked on Dean's face, ready for any sign of discomfort from the human beneath him, he slowly pushed just the tip of his middle finger in, breaching the tight ring of muscle.

Dean unconsciously tensed up, his body protesting against the intrusion on reflex, clenching down on the digit without thought. Struggling to keep his face neutral under Cas' intense judging gaze, as his whole body shivered with the feeling of Cas' finger thrusting slowly into his body, so delicately.

He could barely process anything. All consumed by an openness and vulnerability he had never experienced, but damn did it feel good. Every sensation focused on that one area, making him hyper aware of every slightest movement the Angel made. Every slow controlled push, every twist flared his sensitivity and he fisted the sheets in a vain attempt to stay on Earth, while biting his lip to stifle his wanton moans. Nothing he had experienced felt like this. He had expected it to be embarrassing and uncomfortable, and to a degree it was, but that was overshadowed by an overwhelming heat that was building rapidly in the pit of his stomach sending sensations straight to his expanding member laying heavily on his tensed stomach.

"Don't do that." Cas said in a gentle request, pushing on Dean's chin to release his lower lip from being trapped in his teeth. "I want to hear you."

No sooner was the lip freed that a long drawn out moan escaped the hunter, and reassured, Castiel gave a few more pushes in and out of Dean's opening hole, before gingerly adding his index finger also. Curling his fingers, aiming for the little bundle of nerves he knew was within.

The result was instant. Dean's back arched off the bed accompanied by a startled gasp that seemed like the hunter was trying to pull all the oxygen from the room in one breath. Castiel froze. He believed stimulating the prostate gland was meant to be pleasurable, but he had to be sure that the reaction Dean had given him wasn't one of pain.

Breathless, Dean met Cas' concerned eyes. "Ah god do that again," he demanded, pushing his hips down, trying to drive those inexperienced yet surprisingly talented fingers deeper.

With a coyly relieved smile, Castiel did just as asked, sending the hunter into another near spasm. Gauging his movements with intense cautiousness, Cas alternated between working open the tight muscle, willing it to relax more and tweaking the bundle of nerves that seemed to be driving Dean wild. The pleasured moans being pulled out of the hunter with every push into his body were encouraging and blessed to hear, but made his insides jump and taxed his control. Yet, he refused to give in to the desire that urged him onwards. He would go slow, as Dean had asked, make sure he was ready, he wouldn't be ruled by basic lust.

Dean seemed to have lost the ability to breath. All he could do was fishmouth at the ceiling as one pleasurable jolt chased up his spine after another, like lightning, every time Cas' fingers moved within him. Never in his dizziest fantasies had he thought it would feel like this. So good, too good. They had barely started and already Dean felt like he was losing his mind, dangerously close to coming. But he didn't want to, not yet, not like this. He wanted more.

"Cas... Ah Cas... You have to- Oh God, you have to stop."

Castiel jerked his hand out of the hunter's body as if burnt. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, Cas," Dean chuckled breathlessly at his Angel's panicked expression. "Nothing wrong with that," he said honestly, struggling to speak through his panting. "Nothing wrong at all, but I don't wanna tap out before the main event."

Easing himself up, Dean grabbed for the lube. Pouring a generous amount onto his palm, Dean took hold of Cas. The Angel gasped, dropping his head, his eyes falling closed, as Dean gently pumped Cas' length, making sure to spread the gel thoroughly. Using his free hand, Dean pressed on the Angel's back, encouraging him back over him. Castiel looked a mix of excited eagerness and debilitating nervousness as he lowered himself between Dean's thighs.

Dean buried his head in Cas' neck as he felt the hard length gliding up the inside of his thigh and bluntly pushed against his clenching hole. This was it. After all these years of fantasies it was finally becoming a reality. And he needs to relax, because he knows it's gonna hurt. How could it not. It's his first time, and Cas is completely inexperienced. Tensing up is only going to make it worse.

Castiel is torn. Tension is radiating off of Dean and bombarding the Angel's senses. Even if he wasn't as tuned into Dean as he was, he could feel the tightness of the hunters muscles. Dean was nervous, maybe as much as the Angel was himself, yet the longing, the need, the arousal is overpowering.

"What are ya waitin' for Cas?" Dean breaths against his shoulder, interrupting Cas' inner debate, "A written invitation?"

Dean's hand slides down and presses against the small of Cas' back, pushing their lower halves together closer. There's a solid confidence to Dean's tone, telling the Angel that, despite the nerves, Dean knows exactly what he wants. As if to prove it, Cas feels some of the tension slip away, as Dean forces himself to relax. The Angel's grip tightening on his hip and curling his hips, he thrust forwards agonizingly slowly, pressing a firm gentle pressure steadily... until, there's a give.

Dean screwed his eyes tight, swallowing a silent growl in expectation for the pain as he stretched open around Cas' girth.

But it doesn't come. There's a burn with the stretch, but it's a bright heat, highlighting Cas' movements as he inches in fractionally further with every carefully restrained thrust, punctuated with soft gasps falling from his lips and tight spasming beyond his control. Cas' fingers had felt good, but it's nothing - **_Nothing_ **! - compared to the intense feeling of being slowly filled that's leaving him unsure whether he will push back and try to force Cas out of him or come untouched right there and then.

He's still trying to wrap his head around it when he lets out a startled gasp as he feels Cas' hips meet the backs of his thighs.

"Dean?" The concern in Cas' voice is unmistakable.

Keeping his eyes locked closed, Dean forces himself to reply, doing his best to his voice steady, "I'm okay," he says, tightening his grip on the others shoulder, desperately trying to keep him in place, hold him still, because the last thing he wants right now is for the Angel to move. Not until his body can adjust to the intrusion it's hotly objecting to, clenching down on Cas uncontrollably. "Just- just hold still a minute."

Cas nods, his stubbled jaw lightly scraping against Dean's cheek where he's being clung to so tightly. The Angel's lips find Dean's throat, dropping soothingly sensual kisses along the path of his pulse, tracing up along his jaw, until they find their goal and claim Dean's own.

Dean knew what a strain it was to be still in those first moments, when your whole body burns with desire and all you can think of is the need to thrust into that hot clenching heat. He knows Cas is feeling that overpowering urge right now. He can feel the fierce tremor that vibrates through his Angel's skin and the tenseness of his muscles. Yet the kiss Cas gave him in that moment was nothing but tender and loving, no hint of urgency, no rush to take the edge off. Just a gentle brush of soft chapped lips against his partially clenched ones.

The strength of the Angel's will-power caused a quiver of excitement to wash through the hunter and his muscles clamped down on Cas unintentionally, causing Cas to whimper into Dean's mouth wantonly, his grip on Dean's side tightening. Still his kiss remains soft and Dean can't help but get lost in it. Letting his body relax into it, focusing on the gentle way Cas' lips are moving over his and eventually his body stops rebelling against everything he wants. Cupping Cas' jaw, Dean thumbs across the stubble and he brings their foreheads together. "You can move, Cas. Just...go slow okay?"

Cas dips his chin, his gaze focuses with intense concentration on their lower halves, he pulls back slowly, shifting his hips till he finds a new angle. When he's happy with their new position he brings their lips together again, kissing Dean deeply, as he curls his hips forward. Dean throws his head back, a loud gasp ripping from him, as a jolt of intense pleasure crashes unexpectedly through him like a bolt of raw lightning, causing his back to lerch off the bed without his consent. Mind Blown that Cas managed to find his prostate on his very first real thrust, but suspecting that he may have used his mojo to do just that. The subtle smug look Cas was suddenly sporting told Dean that had, in fact, been the case. ' _Yeah he's definitely cheating._ ' Not that Dean's complaining.

Before he could accuse Cas of doing just that, his second thrust skimmed over it's target sending another just as powerful jolt of pleasure coursing through him, and another, and another and he loses all thought. "Ah Cas!"

Castiel was drowning in sensations. He had experienced the pleasures of the flesh once before, but the feelings flooding into him currently were so much stronger than they had been back then. He knew the act itself would be different as Dean was the same gender as his vessel, but he had assumed that that was where the differences would end. He had been so wrong.

Being inside Dean is a hot tight heat that is radiating through his whole being like a solar flare. It's making his muscles clench, his skin warm and flush, but it's not just his vessel affected, it's penetrating Castiel to a limit Dean shouldn't be able to touch and pushing his strained control to near breaking point. But the most taxing are the gasps and pleasured moans Dean's letting out which are looping back around, giving Castiel pleasure from knowing that he's giving Dean pleasure, in an ever increasing spiral and his heart feels like it will explode from the pure emotion flooding into him. The world has fallen away, there's nothing but Dean, his pure essence, his intoxicating scent, the feel of his sweat slicked skin, the flutter of firm muscles. It's all his own personal drug, one that he never wants to recover from. His control slips, head spins and he dives down in utter abandon, sinking deeper, harder.

"Fuck, Cas," Dean's breaths are coming too quick, but not deep enough. His own arousal heavy, trapped between their stomachs, practically singing with the friction of Cas' powerful thrusts, that's turning into little more than a moaning mass of wanton need in record time.

"D-Dean?" His name came out a trembled whisper against the hollow of his throat, full of desperate uncertainty and utterly wrecked.

Dean pushes his head further into the pillow, twisting so he can see his Angel's face. Cas' eyes are clamped tight shut, lips parted, face tensed in pain pleasure.

"Cas?"

His lids parting slightly, giving away only the smallest glimpse of blue edged around lust blown pupils. Deep inside the hunter saw something, almost hidden behind the need, the desperate drive. Cas is lost, completely overwhelmed. Which didn't make any sense. Cas had done this before, ok not exactly _this_ , but he had been with a woman, he wasn't a virgin. He'd had sex when he was...

Oh God!

Cas hadn't done this before. He had, but he hadn't. He had been human at the time. The Angel had never had sex, as an Angel.

This was completely new and uncharted territory for him and Dean could see all the uncertainty reflected in those deep unfocused eyes, hooded into slits. Cas was gone, barely holding on. He could feel it in the tremble washing through the Angel's entire body, the faltering grip on his hip.

He was holding back. Muscles so tensed it looked like he was trying to hold the weight of the whole world on his shoulders. Teetering on the edge, afraid of what would happen if he fell. Completely undone. Lost in sensation. His hooded eyes, glazed and unfocused drift to Dean's, lost and pleading. "It's... it's not like... I can't... I..." So desperate and need filled. His breathing coming in fast, uneven staggered pants, making the tendons in his throat stand out as he gasps and whines. Cas is coming completely undone, because of him, because of Dean. His panted groans coming fast and rampant, lost in the throws of ecstasy.

But Dean was right there with him on the precipice, ready to leap, together. "Cas... I got ya. Just let go."

Cas let out a primal moan as Dean’s words go through him, sounding more like a growl in its deep baseness so close to the hunters ear. He wants to, Dean can see that he does, he's holding on as if for dear life. 

"Come for me, Cas... Come with me," Dean urges, and as if he's held off for permission Cas' hips grinding in, deep and powerful, leaving Dean jarred into breathlessness and his eyes clamp shut against the pounding ecstasy that's forced into him as Cas hits that sweet spot with every forceful jerk of his hips and tips Dean over the edge.

His head forces back into the pillow, back arching off the bed, pressing his cock tight to Cas tensed stomach. He screams, vision gone. He loses his grip on reality as his orgasm rips through him. The last thing he feels is Cas pushing tight into him one last time, pulsing so deeply, as the Angel's cry merged with his own.

Dean doesn't know how long it is, but eventually when his senses come back to him the air feels heavy and rippling with static. Cas had collapsed on top of him where his arms had finally given out. He's heavier than he looks, but it's a pleasant weight with their chest pressed so close together that Dean can feel Cas' every pounding heartbeat battling against his own. 

He raised a weary hand so he can run it through his Angel's soft sex messed hair. "Cas?" he rasped out through protesting vocal cords, "You okay?"

Castiel's panted breaths, breezing over Dean's shoulder, pause while he swallowed thickly, only to start again straight after, before the Angel gives up trying to speak and gives an enthusiastic nod instead.

Dean chuckles and tossels the hair he's fingering through. It had been intense, probably more so for the Angel if Cas inability to speak is anything to go by. So he gives Cas a few minutes to recover, running soothing hands over the Angel's surprisingly sweat-free back, before telling him to get out and off so he can go clean up the mess that they'd made.

Cas backs his hips up slightly, slipping out with a soft hiss from Dean, rolling to the side, he collapses onto his back allowing the hunter to get up from under him.

Using the light seeping in from under the door as a guide, Dean makes his way over to the small sink on shaking legs that feel like they can barely hold his weight. Reaching over he flicks on the bedroom light, so he can see what he's doing while he cleans himself up. Wiping off the remains of his orgasm from his stomach and lower chest. He rinses out the washcloth and turns to toss it to Cas, so the Angel can do the same.

"What the..."

Dean frowned at the disarray of the bedroom that he had been hidden from him before with the light being off. Everything he owned it seemed was thrown about the place, as if a tornado had swiped through the room while the pair of them had been distracted with each other. He'd been pretty out of it but he thought he would have noticed if they had had an earthquake. "Cas?"

"I'm sorry," Cas sighed, apologetically, "It was an accident."

Dean threw his head back laughing. "I've heard of explosive orgasms, Cas. But...damn."

Cas gave him a bashful grin. "I'll clear it up. You should sleep, you're exhausted."

Dean wanted to protest, wanted to offer to help, but honestly Cas had a point, he was totally fucked out. Besides Cas had made the mess... and didn't need sleep. With a nod of agreement, Dean crawled heavily back into bed. Pulling the sheet over him, he snuggled down, his muscles relaxing and eyelids drooping heavy, sleep already calling to him.

He felt a gentle kiss press to his forehead before the mattress shifted as Cas got up and out of the bed.

"You won't..." he said wearily, barely get the words out, "You won't go anywhere will you?"

"No, Dean." he heard the other whisper back to him, close by. "I'll watch over you."

With a soft sigh, Dean let himself drift off into slumber. That didn't sound so creepy anymore.

**xXxXxXx**

With the room back to the ordered state it had done before and their clothes neatly folded, Castiel slipped back in beside Dean in the bed, pulling the sound asleep hunter closer, until he was pillowed on the Angel's chest with his head settled in the crock of his shoulder and neck.

The weight pressing down on him, the scent of Dean's skin and the sensation of his steady breaths against Cas' chest was soothing for the Angel. But then, having Dean close had always felt like it was a safe zone. He petted Dean's hair away from his face in slow short strokes and started to try and process the tangled mess of powerful emotions that he, as an Angel, was not meant to experience and was not used to. It was so easy to get confused and this day had seen a barrage of emotion with such intensity that Castiel was completely overwhelmed.

Having lived countless millennia as a Warrior of Heaven, nothing more than a soldier, a tool, a puppet to be ordered, that was normal for the Angel. Emotions, human emotions, were complex and messy and he needed time to process them.

So, in the security of Dean's arms, Castiel broke down everything he had experienced in the last few hours, considering each change carefully and individually, mentally picking apart every experience and the feeling he experiences with them.

The first of which had come upon seeing Dean take hundreds of thousands of souls into his body, knowing the hunters life was on borrowed time from that point on. That had made Castiel's stomach and gut feel like they had tightening to the point of implosion and a stinging sensation had sprung in his eyes. But those were physical symptoms, the feelings however were stronger and much much more painful.

He had offered to go with Dean of course, but his offer had been turned down, as he knew it would. That made him feel... he wasn't sure. Rejected? Maybe, but not quite. Though he had come to expect nothing less from the hunter and his self sacrificing nature. But he had wanted to go with him, wanted to be with him for every last possible moment that Dean had left, even though it would mean his own death. Whether that was due to loyalty and a desire to be with Dean so he wouldn't die alone, or not wanting to live in a world without Dean, he couldn't be sure. So he decided it must be an amalgamation of all of them, mixed in with the thinnest shred of hope, hope that the hunter would find another way, hope that Father might be able to spare him somehow, hope that Dean may live.

That hope had died when the sun brightened, knowing Dean's death was the cause. The strongest emotions were obvious to him as he thought back over them; Sorrow, a shielded numbed sadness and a deep regret that he had never told the hunter just how much he meant to him, along with a small certain amount of what Castiel had assumed was pride. His charge, the Righteous Man, Dean Winchester had saved the world, but that spark had been short-lived when the certainty that he was never going to see the man again set in. That had been painful... no, painful wasn't the right word, it was so much stronger than simple pain... it was... it was soul destroying grief.

When he'd seen Dean unexpectedly standing there in the men of letters bunker library, unscathed and very much still alive, that had been a tsunami of emotions; Joy, relief, confusion... bewildering confusion. All crashing in on Castiel in unfathomable intensity. He hadn't been able to grasp so much at once, so as he usually did in times such as these and he had just gone with instinct, knowing he would have time to figure out the reasons later... Only this time, he hadn't. The confusion had only grown as the evening progressed and the instinct, the pull had been unrelenting throughout.

The desire to be close to Dean, he'd felt whenever in the hunter's presence, had been there for a long time. Stubbornly growing more apparent as the years went by. At first he hadn't understood what those feelings meant. Any sort of human emotion was new and unheard of for Angels, but losing his grace had shown him with crystal clarity the truth behind them and his night with April had taught him there was more to them than a simple attraction, or need for sexual gratification. Despite Dean's fierce aversion to any kind of talk about his emotion, Castiel had wanted to be honest, explain everything to him and hope that Dean could give him some level of understanding, though it may have been an awkward conversation, especially considering that Castiel was certain that Dean reciprocate those feelings, but had chosen for some unknown reason to ignore them. The next time they had been alone and Dean had asked to talk to him, Castiel had assumed that was it. Finally after years of him not understanding and the hunter dodging around the subject, this was it. But instead Dean had asked him to leave. The pain of rejection Cas had felt in that moment was unbearable and made Castiel reconsider all he thought he had come to believe.

He had sensed the longing from the hunter from very early on, coming in constant waves, like a prayer, that were impossible to miss, but were possible to ignore. So ignore them he had, always, because Dean did. Dean never commented or acted on those longings, so neither had Castiel. It didn't mean that he didn't feel them, reciprocate them even, but he had learnt how to feel them from the human, and also how to act accordingly with those feelings. So longing and want was something to be ignored. He understood. Or so he had thought. Before tonight.

Tonight that need for each other that bonded them profoundly, yet distanced them in mutual silent understanding had shattered, exploded and all but consumed the Angel. The internal barrier that had kept those emotions at bay from his constant thoughts, kept them distant, faded, blurred, yet not forgotten, had disappeared the moment when Dean's lips found his. An all new consuming rush forced itself to the forefront of Castiel's self, it's overpowering brightness casting every other thought, feeling and most relevantly doubt into shadow. Racking up the volume of his need in a new way that made it impossible to ignore. Completely impossible.

Castiel didn't understand why. It was all too powerful, too overwhelming, too new. A muddled chaos, so confusing and required much deeper thought to process.

**xXxXxXx**

Dean gently breached wakefulness, feeling warm, relaxed and pleasantly achy. Memories of the night before echoed behind his eyelids and he refused to open them so he could rewatch the highlights in his own private world - The feeling of fullness, full of Cas, the power behind Angel's thrusts and the sight of Cas' face over him, eyes tight, lips parted, teeth clenched as the Angel tensed, growling out an inhuman moan from deep in his chest, completely undone, lost in pleasure.

The mere memory of it caused Deans insides to twitch excitedly. In his wildest fantasies he hadn't imagined anything close to reality.

A smile tugged up his lip, as he reached out, blindly searching for his Angel.

 _His Angel_. Dean liked the thought of that.

Sure, Cas had always been his Angel, in a way, Cas would say Dean was his charge, but now it was more. This wasn't something either of them had been obligated or ordered into, it was their choice, their want and need for each other, and Dean didn't understand why they hadn't done all this years ago.

His questing hand found firm, smooth warmth.

Dean's smile grew wider, he didn't need to open his eyes to work out that, despite the Angel having no need for sleep, Cas had stayed with him all night, and unless what Dean felt was deceiving him, was very much still naked.

Dean wriggled closer, pillowing his head on Cas' shoulder and his eyes suddenly lost all interest in staying closed, the treasures of dreamland paled by the chance for the real thing.

The first thing Dean saw was close up tanned skin that seemed to go on forever. The dips and rises of the Angel's abdomen and pectorals. Beautiful. Perfection. He traced his fingers over the Enochian tattoo below his ribs, curving round his left side, and - Damn how had he not noticed those impressively chiseled hip bones before? ' _Probably because my thighs had been wrapped around them'_ , Dean thought with a quiver. They look sharp enough to cut glass.

Feeling like maybe he'd perved over Cas long enough, or maybe too long, Dean turned to look him in the face.

And just like that the blissed tranquility Dean had been experiencing since he woke evaporated, leaving behind only a tight ball of tension in the pit of his stomach.

"Cas?"

Cas looked - there was no other word for it - he looked catatonic. Lips hung loosely parted, lax features, unfocused eyes zoned into nothing over Dean's shoulder. "Cas?"

Dean was up in a flash, kneeling over the Angel. Panic in his braking voice as he shook shoulders, cupped cheeks, pleading. "Cas?... What's wrong? Cas?... Come on man snap out of it!...” 

_“Cas_!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should warn now about the cliffhangers ;P  
> This is my first venture into the world of supernatural fic and destiel, so any comments, opinions, thoughts etc are very very encouraged. It really does help keep me focused on getting next chapters up.   
> ~ SGsVamp


	2. Enter Sandman

  
  
  


**Chapter Two**

**Enter Sandman**

Sam wandered into the bunker’s kitchen fresh from his post-run shower, his lengthy hair pushed back to keep it away from his face while it dried. The coffee maker he had started before he left had finished purculating, leaving the room heavy in the morning beverage aroma. He had made a full pot in case Dean would be up, knowing it would most likely be his brother's first stop when he decided to grace the world with his presence. But so far neither his brother nor Castiel had emerged from Dean’s bedroom and the door had been closed when Sam had left and also when he passed after his shower. 

He certainly wasn’t going to knock and disturb them both. He could guess at what was going on behind that closed (and probably locked) door, but under no circumstances did he want to have his suspicion confirmed. 

Dean and Castiel. He smiled with a shake of his head in almost disbelief. He had seen there was something between the two of them for a long time, but never really expected anything to actually happen. Dean was too deep in his denial and Cas was just plain clueless. 

Although Dean had never admitted it, Sam had known Dean was bisexual for years now, and suspected it for even longer. Dean had just tried too hard, put on too much of a macho front for it not to be over compensating for something. And even if all that bravado hadn’t given away his brother's secret, his siren becoming a man certainly had. There was no denying that Dean was into girls, but he definitely had part of himself locked and barricaded away in the proverbial closet, as far as Sam could see. So tightly locked away that Sam was sure that door would never be opened. 

And then there was Castiel. Though there was no denying the Angel had a strong liking for Dean, love even, but it had never seemed romantic. In fact Cas just seemed completely indifferent when it came to anything sexual. Seeing any rare opportunity that came the Angel’s way as more of a learning experience than anything more than that.

Still it was impossible to miss that there was something between the two of them. Something more than mere friends, or brotherhood. Sam had spent far too long feeling like a third wheel in their relationship for there not to be, he just never expected either of them to ever act on it. 

He was just pouring his first mug of coffee when his older brother skidded into the room on bare feet, wearing only jeans and a startled ‘deer caught in the headlights’ look. 

“Sammy!” He gasped out, “I need your help. I-I broke Cas.”

Sam blinked at him, refusing to rise to the bait of what was obviously a prank. He slipped his drink, before shaking his head. “Yeah, ok. Let me guess, drilled him till his halo fell off. Ha ha Dean, very funny.”

“Dude, I’m not joking!”

Sam side-eyed him with a weary look of annoyance, but the look he found when he did gave him cause to pause and reconsider. How long had it been since either of them had pulled a prank on the other? Ok it hadn’t been that long, but this wasn’t something Dean would be comfortable making jokes about. Sam’s surprised he’s even talked about it at all. Making jokes, didn’t fit. 

And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his brother looking this worried. “You're serious?”

Dean’s nod had a tremble. “He- He’s like catatonic in there.” Both Dean’s hands were fisting his hair, like he was trying to rip it out by the root and Sam pretended not to notice the wetness collecting in his brothers eyes or the way he was biting at his lower lips to try hide the quiver. 

“What happened?” Sam was already leading the way, back towards Dean’s room, as he asked, Dean following briskly behind him.

“I don’t know. We just- I just woke up and he was... I couldn’t wake him.” He is still rambling when Sam gets to the door, left open in Dean’s hurry to find help.

Dean stood back watching Sam with wrapped attention while he checked Castiel’s breathing and other vitals, glad that even in his panic, he had had the sense to rearrange the covers over the naked Angel before rushing off to find Sam. At least he could protect Cas’ modesty even if he hadn’t been able to protect Cas from whatever was affecting the Angel right now. 

He gave a brief nod when Sam told him that Cas was breathing normally and had a strong steady pulse. He was already aware, he had checked before he left to find Sam. The Angel was fine physically, as far as his health signs were concerned, the problem was simple. Cas wouldn’t wake up. And for someone who doesn’t sleep, that couldn’t be good, not good at all. 

“Did anything out of the ordinary happen?” Sam asked.

Dean scoffed, “You mean besides all of it?” 

“Yes, Dean,” Sam dropped his shoulders in frustration. “I mean specifically something that could have caused this!” 

Dean shook his head. The whole evening had been ‘out of the ordinary’. Yes, he had always had those thoughts and desires towards Cas, but it was not like him to act on them and it was definitely not like Cas either. But there was nothing specific that stood out. It had been an epically intense first night together, but that was it. There wasn’t anything obvious that could be the cause of Cas’ current non-responsive state. It had to be a spell, witches most likely. They should search the room, or the whole bunker for hex bags. 

Or could Heaven be responsible? The sudden thought had his stomach twisting up in dread. Would they have done something to Cas for lowering himself to being with a worthless human? Would they think it blasphemous? Would they punish Cas for it, kill him? Is that what was happening right now? Was that only Cas’ vessel laying in Dean’s bed? Was the real Cas in Heaven getting punished...or reset? His throat seemed too small at the thought of it, chest too tight, the air too thin. 

A spell or curse would be the better option of those two choices. As much as he hated seeing Cas like this, chances are if this was some kind of spell or hex it could be broken, but if Cas was ‘reset’... Losing Cas that way, the Angel forgetting all that made him unique and special, that would be so much worse. So cruel for Dean to get what he needed most only to have it snatched away straight after... 

Needed most - the words repeated around in Dean’s head, triggering a recent memory.

_ ‘You’ve given me what I needed most. I want to do the same for you.’  _ That was what Amara had said to him just before she had left with Chuck. At the time he hadn’t given it much thought, but could she have meant Cas? 

“Amara!” Dean all but shouted in realisation, snapping Sam’s attention back to his brother who had frozen just inside the doorway, as if afraid his closeness would hurt the Angel further. 

Sam’s eyebrows twitched in question, but he remained quiet waiting for Dean to explain.

The more Dean thought about it the more he was convinced he was right. The things he’d said, that he never would have said before, never would have allowed himself to say before, as much as he may have wanted it, still wanted it, but he would have never said it. He would have held that secret to death. Yet, the night before he couldn’t hold it in. He knew he was poison, he knew he was cursed, he knew he’d lose everyone he dared to get close to, but at the time he had forgotten, he hadn’t cared... and now Cas was going to pay the price for that mistake, because making Cas pay would hurt Dean more than paying it himself. It was all his fault.

“Dean?” Sam’s loud interruption snapped him out of his turmoil and he realised he’d been quiet for a long while. “You think Amara had something to do with this?”

“Yeah, she urm... she said something to me and when I got back we were acting... differently, and ... It has to be a spell of something.” Dean stammered out. His voice thick with shame. “Maybe Cas sensed it and tried to stop it or it affected him differently, or it’s a side effect, I don’t know, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.” 

Sam chooses not to comment on the vagueness in Dean’s rambled explanation. His brother is already struggling, not that Sam had ever assumed Dean’s coming out and admitting his feelings for the Angel would ever be easy on him, but this was a whole new level of bad. Instead he decides to focus on just the problem at hand. “We can check the lore, but if it is Amara causing this I don’t think we’re gonna find a spell strong enough. And even if we do, I doubt we’d be able to pull it off ourselves. We’d need a witch and I don’t think Rowena is going to want to go against Amara again so soon.”

“We have to do something, it’s Cas!” The guilty look on Dean’s face has morphed to one of desperation. 

Sam was nodding in thoughtful agreement. “What about African dream root?” 

Dean paused, his frustration abating some, turning to his younger brother. “You mean that dream walking thing we did with Bobby and Charlie?”

“Yeah,” Sam stated with a thoughtful nod, “Maybe we can break him out from the inside.”

Dean glanced over at the motionless Angel and then back to the younger Winchester, with a slight glimmer of hope in his eyes. “Could that work?” 

Sam pursed his lips with a skeptical shrug, “I have no idea. I don't even know if Angels dream, but it’s all we got for now and we should have everything we need right here.”

With a snappy nod, Dean dashed from the room. Sam heard his speeded footfall growing fainted as his brother made for the supply room. A man on a mission. He rose to follow after him, but as an afterthought, paused to pluck a couple of hairs from Castiel’s head. They would need them later. Pocketing the strands, he left to catch up to Dean.

He found Dean already pulling open draws and rummaging through boxes in one of the storage rooms, in his search for the aforementioned root and the various herbs they would need for the dream walking tea. Silently, Sam joined the hunt. 

While they searched, Sam waited. Waited to see if Dean would bring up the subject. He doubted it, it was not Dean’s way to voluntarily open up, he was more likely to bottle everything up and never let anyone see that side of himself, but he gave his brother the chance anyway... 

Until his patience ran out.

“So?” Sam tried to keep his tone casual, side glancing briefly to try and gauge his brother's mood. “You and Cas, huh?”

Dean’s best reprimanding came out of the corner of his eye, not pausing his rapid search, shoving unwanted items around in the box to get at what could be hiding in the bottom. “It’s complicated.” Everything in him screaming out ‘don’t go there’.

“Which would be fine if I asked for a facebook update,” Sam continued regardless. Ignoring Dean’s obvious aversion to the subject. “But I’m your brother, you don’t have to hide things from me.”

“Now’s not the time, Sammy,” he reprimanded, trying to shut down what he knew would turn into a line of questioning that he did not want to get into right now, if ever. 

“I know, I know,” Sam said, bobbing his head. “But I just wanted to say that now it’s out in the open, don’t go going all  _ ‘Dean’  _ about it.”

Dean’s busy search stopped abruptly. Slowly turning to face him, an annoyed questioning glare upon his face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you always shut people out, just like you’re doing right now.” Dean rolled his eyes and started his search back up. “You don’t have to deal with everything on your own. You can talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Oh come on Dean,” Sam gasped out exasperated, “don’t treat me like I'm an idiot. I’ve known you guys are into each other for ages now.” 

“Look,” Dean turned on his brother, jabbing his open palm into his chest, “whatever you think you know about me and Cas you can just forget about it alright,” he snapped hotly, glaring at his brother. 

“Why?” Sam asked, rubbing his chest absently. “What happened?”

“Same thing that happens to anyone who gets too close to us. They end up getting hurt ... or worse,” Dean barked, hoping his little outburst would shut up his little brother. He didn’t want to get into this at all, but least of all now, when his Angel was in trouble. Right now he had more important things to consider than Sam’s need for a chick flick moment. That could come after, if it had to, once Cas was alright. And not one moment before. 

Sam paused, his mouth dropping open as he stared at Dean in disbelief, not quite comprehending what his brother was implying. “You can’t seriously think that whatever's happening to Cas is your fault.”

Dean didn’t reply. Because, yes, that was precisely what he thought. But admitting that would open up the floor and put what had happened between him and Cas just hours before under the spotlight. He didn’t have time for that, not now. So he ignored Sam’s puppy dog eyes, instead turning his attention into doubling his efforts in the search, thankfully finding what they were looking for just seconds after. 

“Got it,” Dean snatched it up the elusive root and was already dashing from the storage room, before Sam could say anything more. 

**xXxXxXxXx**

Tea in hand Dean shouldered open the door, kicking it closed behind him and made his way to the bedside trying not to look at the occupant of the bed. He didn’t want to see what he’d done to the Angel, wanting to live with just a toe on denial for just a little bit longer. But his guilty conscience just wouldn’t allow him to hold it off. 

At some point Cas’ eyes had dropped closed, or maybe Sam had closed them when he had checked him over. Dean didn't know which, either way he was grateful. There had been something very unnerving about the Angel’s unblinking, unfocused stare. Cas had lived for countless millennia, seen creation, survived holy wars. His touch could heal or kill as he chose. Yet the heavenly Angel broke after the touch of Dean Winchester. 

Now, with those long lashes resting peacefully against Cas’ cheeks, Dean could imagine he was sleeping, dreaming of their one and only perfect night together. Dean knew that wasn’t the case, but for a brief second he let himself believe it. Before he had to face the truth and let go of his long coveted Angel to save him.

“I’m really sorry I got you involved in this, Buddy,” he whispered over Cas’ sleeping form and in one last moment of weakness, he leaned over and pressed a lingering soft kiss to the Angel defined cheek bone. Kissing goodbye to the idea of ‘them’. He’d been foolish to think for even a second that what he and Cas shared could be anything more than a close friendship. The guy was a freaking Angel, he deserved so much better than the messed up, broken hunter, with so much blood on his hands, so many scars on his soul, that Dean was sure not even a crossroads demon would have wanted the tattered mess anymore. It wouldn’t be worth a worn nickel, let alone the love of an Angel. Worthless. Hell, the demon would have probably charged  _ him  _ to take the soul. 

With a deep sigh, he choked down the rising sadness, thumbed away an escaped tear and took up the cup, lifting it in toast to the slumbering, and too still Cas, laid out beside him. “Here’s to all the times you’ve gone sneaking into my dreams.” 

Briefly, Dean wondered if Cas would see this as an invasion of his privacy. Not that Dean had much of a choice. Not keeping his feelings well enough hidden had caused this, whatever this was and he was going to do whatever it took to get his friend back... He hoped he would get his friend back, Dean panicked. Because what if Cas couldn’t forgive him, what if knowing what had happened made things too awkward between them to ever get over. “I’m sorry, Cas. I’m so sorry... I hope...I hope you can forgive me.”

He couldn’t dwell on that right now. He would deal with the consequences once Cas was safe. Determined, he brought the cup to his mouth and took a deep chug, finishing the bitter brew quickly and settled down on his back next to Cas. Within moments and with a silent apology and plea for forgiveness, Dean eyes slipped closed, head lolling to the side.

He woke to find himself in a clinically clean and featureless glowing white corridor that seemed to go on forever. Countless doors lined each side, further than he could see, in either direction. How was he ever meant to find Castiel in this lot?

Picking a direction at random, there was no difference between the two, he had a fifty-fifty chance, he hurried down the corridor calling for the Angel at the top of his lungs. He hadn’t ran long when something caught his eye and he came to a skidded hult. The door to his right was slightly different to the others. It was the same spotlessly clean white of all the others, identical really in every way, but it was just  _ odd  _ somehow, in a way he couldn’t put his finger on. If he hadn’t been in a state of hyper awareness, searching for any sign of movement, any sign of Cas, Dean probably wouldn’t have even noticed. He couldn’t even tell what it was that made it different, it just was. 

Curiosity got the better of him and he reached for the handle.

The second he opened it, he knew he had made a mistake. 

“Please, don’t!”

Cas’ voice, heavily laced with fear, is the first thing he noticed. His Angel was usually so skilled at hiding it, must be completely terrified for it to be so obvious. “You don’t have to do this.”

In the center of the overly lit, too clean clinical looking room that Dean found himself in, Cas was laid back, strapped down to a surgical type chair. His wrists restrained tightly to the arms by solid looking metal cuffs. 

“Cas!” Dean shouted, his voice coming out muted and heavy in his ears. The room warped unnaturally and spots danced in his vision as he stepped inside. He managed one staggered step closer to the Angel he was searching for, before dizziness forced him to stop.

Castiel ignored him, or didn’t hear him, Dean couldn’t tell which. Instead he continued to plead with the only other person in the room. Dean recognized the woman as she approached him, utterly unmoved by the Angel terror. Dean had met the sardonic bitch before. 

Naomi. 

“Yes, I do. You need this, Castiel,” she stated matter-of-factly, as she leaned over the bound man, raising the buzzing silver drill in her hand. 

“Please. I don’t want this,” Cas was crying out, struggling against the binding that held him fast. “I want to remember!”

“Never have I known an Angel as willfully defiant as you,” she told him coldly, the drill she held hovering dangerously close over his defenseless eye. “What you did damaged you. We’re trying to help you, Castiel.”

Cas struggled, pushing his head back into the padding of the head rest trying to get as much distance between himself and drill as possible, his pleas tumbling out of his lips in sheer panic. 

“Keep still!” she snapped at him, emotionlessly. “I’ve done this so many times, it’s like second nature to me, but one slip...”

“Please, don’t,” Cas begged through a wavering exhale, at the same time Dean screamed “NO!” and trying to charge forwards on legs that felt like jelly. He already knew it was pointless, already knew this wasn’t real, there was nothing he could do to change what he was seeing, but unable to stop himself.

Naomi leaned closer over her subject, studying closely, eyes cold, like Cas no more than a lab rat to her.

Before Dean could reach them the drill was pressed in. Cas screamed out in pain, a blood curdling cry, legs flailing, knuckles whitening as he gripped the arms of the chair. 

Blackness engulfed the whole room, leaving Dean in nothing but empty space. He spun around on the spot searching for his Angel, or his torturer, or even the room that they had just been in, but it had all gone. He was staring into nothing but a void in all directions. Fearfully he rushed back to the open door, before that too could have a chance to disappear.

Slamming the door shut behind him, Dean hunched over, gripping his knees and trying to drive the images from his own mind. He was sure that if he was actually here, actually in his body and not a mental projection, he would have thrown up. 

“What sort of fucked up nightmare on Elm street reenactment is this?” he gasped out, taking some deep breath to calm his racing heart. He knew Naomi had in the past given Cas the Heaven version of a factory reset, turning him into nothing more than a brainwashed mindless soldier, controlling his actions, until he had broken free of her hold on him just in time to prevent Dean from being his next victim. But Dean had assumed the method used had been a spell, or something similar. He pictured it much the same way he’d seen the Angel smite others, a hand to the head, maybe a few Enocian words would be chanted, but nothing like what he’d just witnessed! Certainly not drilling into Cas’ brain through the corner of his eye! It was barbaric. Something he’d expect from a Demon, not an Angel. It belonged in the pit, with some monster on the rack, not in Heaven with  _ his  _ Angel, whose only crime was embracing free will and humanity. 

Bobby and Charlie's dreams had been bizarre and pain filled, but this was a whole nother level. He glanced left and right, at the sheer amount of doors left yet unseen to him, dreading to think what lay behind each of them. If this is what his Angel dreamed about it was no wonder the guy didn’t sleep.

The next door Dean tried was no better. 

“Mercy, Brother please!” Even doused in pain, Dean recognized his Angel’s voice instantly. 

Cas’ arms are raised high above his head, chained to the warehouse ceiling, leaving him defenceless. His trench, suit jacket and tie stripped off, leaving him in only his dress shirt which was sliced open in multiple slashes and bloody. 

“Brother?” One of the other two in the room with him scoffed, Dean identifying them both as Angel’s by Cas’ wording as well as the blades they both held, blades coated in Cas’ blood. “What are you?”

“Cas!” Dean charged forward, swinging for his Angel’s captives. His fists passed harmlessly through them and he staggered forwards before regaining his balance. None of them reacted to Dean’s attack or even his stumbling arrival in the room, not even Cas. And Dean reminded himself for the second time, that this wasn’t a reality, just some fucked up dream world, inside Castiel’s head. Cas couldn’t actually get hurt here, but that didn’t stop him from putting himself in front of the bound Angel, shielding him in his defenselessness. 

“I’m an Angel of the lord.” Cas stammered out weakly. Whether it’s from the exhaustion, or the pain, Dean wasn’t sure, but as he stepped up close, he realised it was neither. 

“That so? Cause near as I can tell when you have to choose between Heaven and the Winchesters-” 

“-You choose them.” 

“Every time.”

The angels overlap each other's words, but Dean has no time to pay attention to either of them. He’s totally focused on Cas. Unable to believe that neither of the angels have noticed. Because there is no possible way the two torturing Cas could have missed his cursed eyes. Or seen the strain the Angel is under struggling to keep the effects of the spell contained. It’s so clear to Dean, that even blind he would see it. Cas’ usually beautiful blues are glassy, yellowed and hooded as if keeping them open hurt too much, the whites barely visible behind the veined redness. They’ve been close enough to slice open Castiel’s face. They had to have noticed. They simply don’t care. 

“What bit shall we cut off first?” 

Dean jolts his head up. Still unable to believe the cruelty he’s hearing and seeing from those that Cas calls his brothers. He watched as the sick twisted Angel eeny meenied between Cas’ chained wrists, before bringing the bloodied blade right up to Cas’ face, tapping him threateningly on the tip of his nose. “Miny.” Cas’ eyes widen, a silent plea, but he doesn’t beg, he doesn’t speak at all. Whether it’s his stubbornness or pride, or he’s simply unable to speak anymore in his internal struggle to keep the curse at bay, Dean can’t tell, knowing Cas it could be any, or all three. 

“Mo.” The blade is tapped to the chained, helpless Angel’s groin. 

Complete rage flashes through the hunter. The urge to smash the tormentor’s face in, ram his teeth down his throat till his crapping cavities. Cas was clearly driven rabid with the curse, muted in struggle, taking away his last defense and instead of helping one of their own they threatened to cut his dick off. Fuck!

Bright light swarmed the room and blinded Dean staggered back, arm raised to defend his eyes. He finds himself back in the corridor. No clue which door he was just in, no way to tell either. 

He pushed the heels of his palms into his eyes. “It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real,” he reminded himself. This wasn’t happening, it was just some fucked up nightmare that was drawing some aspects of Cas’ life and twisting it into hellish versions. 

He had to find Cas, the real one and the sooner the better. Neither of those he had seen had recognized him, or even looked his way. They hadn’t heard him or responded to him. They weren’t his Angel. His Cas he was still lost somewhere, imprisoned in this infinite tunnel of mystery doors, still for him to find. 

He wouldn't leave Cas trapped in this endless nightmare. He could never. He had gotten Cas into this mess, and sure as hell he was gonna get him out, if it was the last thing he did.

Fresh fuel drives his search, he yanks open one door, peering in, but not entering. He saw Cas standing in the middle of a mass of dead bodies, the smocked outline of wings revealing them as Angels. Cas’ own bloodied Angel blade gripped tight in his fist as he stared down at the massacre. 

Leaving the door open and keeping that Cas in his sight, Dean backed up and opened the door behind him, quickly glancing over his shoulder. Inside that room was another Cas, shirt ripped open, chained and bloodied, pleading for a quick death.

Neither of these Castiel’s responded to his shouts. None of them were real. 

He hurried on. Door after door, nightmare after nightmare, calling out desperately for his Angel. 

He saw him standing in front of a mirror, shirt pulled open. His face panic-stricken as he watched in horror as something monstrous within tried to force itself out from the Angels’ stomach, stretching the sore ridden skin unnaturally. He saw him in white scrubs, huddled in fear in the corner of a hospital room, arms clutched around his head while Lucifer mocked and threatened. He saw Cas glowing in grace, shadows of his wings showing behind him in tatters, what little feathers remained on the wounded and bloody limbs were molting heavily. He saw Cas standing in a huge open white warehouse littered with dozens of slaughtered corpses each one wearing Dean’s face. He saw a woman, brow shrapnell’ed with glass shards, telling Cas Heaven didn’t want his help, they wanted his head. He saw him graceless, human, huddled in a doorway in an attempt to shield his shivering body against the downpour of rain. 

Eventually he started tuning out what he was seeing, only glancing in long enough to call to him and see if that Cas would respond in any way. He didn’t want to see more than that, but he couldn’t stop what he heard. The magnitude of voices, sometimes hearing Cas’ own, but mostly others. He heard his own voice more often than he liked. “You can’t stay.” “Nobody cares that you’re broken, Cas. Clean up your mess!” “You’re the famous spanner in the works. Honestly, I think you came off the line with a crack in your chassy.” “Top of the Christmas tree Castiel, no more than a doop.” “Next time I won't miss!” “You are expendable. Weak.” “I just followed the sound of your pain. You have no idea how loud it is.” “You don’t even die right, do you.” “I ask you to help me. Please. Save me from doing the worst.” “I’m sorry Dean.” “I don’t care!” “You are broken, Castiel.” “How many times have you tore into my head and washed it clean?” “Frankly, too damn many.” 

He lost count of the amount of doors he opened, shouted into, calling to the version of Cas he found there, not daring to actually enter. The action became repetitive, a habit. And that somewhat helped him to distance himself from what he saw there, reminding himself over and over, it wasn’t real, none of this was actually happening, it was only a dream... Before he finally - FINALLY!- got a reaction. 

In what felt like the thousandth door, the Angel’s head turned towards him at the sound of his name and Dean quickly stepped into the room. Until then he hadn’t considered the surroundings, he was only looking for Cas. Where he found the Angel was irrelevant, as long as he found him. But now he had, he checked out where they were. 

It appeared to be a large rundown garden shed. Vines grew through holes in the roof and walls, letting in spotlights of golden sunlight. Shelves lined all the walls filled with pots and tools, and many other things Dean had never laid eyes on before. Bees buzzed happily against the window, through which Dean could just make out a man flying a kite in the distance. If someone had told Dean that this shed had stood there for a hundred years Dean would have believed them. It was old, worn, but not one speck of dust, not one cobweb. It smelt of honey and felt homely. 

Cas stood behind a sturdy looking wooden work bench. He watched closely as Dean approached, his eyes scanning over the hunter’s worried features, his lips parted loosely, before his searching eyes found Deans, locking on in a gentle realization. His brow puckered, “Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas, it’s me.” Dean told him softly, approaching the Angel cautiously, like he was a cornered animal that would bolt at any moment. He looked... lost, completely lost. “You okay?”

“I-” Cas’ eyes were back to flitting aimlessly once more, his frown deepened. “What are you- how are you here?”

Dean ignored his question, he didn’t know how much longer the African Dream tea would be in effect or how long they’d already been stuck in Cas’ nightmares for, but either way he needed to get Cas out of this and the sooner the better. “Listen man, this isn’t real. You’re not really here, neither of us are. You’re dreaming. We’re at the bunker and you've gone full lights on but nobody's home on us. I need you to wake up. You have to wake up.”

“I’m not asleep Dean, I don’t sleep.” The huffiness of his tone sounded to Dean like a parent patiently addressing a stubborn child. “These aren’t dreams. You’re in my mind, These are my memories.”

“Your mem-” Dean couldn’t finish. The enormousness of what he was hearing rushing upon him, all at once. All the things he’d seen, all the rooms filled with nightmares, tortures and pain, weren’t actually nightmares. He knew at least parts of some had been based in truth, but he had assumed they were some twisted turn of events leaning towards some darkened dream. To know that they had actually happened, all of it, every last thing he’d seen. They had happened to Cas... He couldn’t think about that now. He had a job to do. “Well whatever this is you need to snap out of it.”

“I can’t. Not yet. There’s something I have to do first.”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck to dispel his frustration, wondering if it was like sleepwalking where it was dangerous to shock them awake. Would it be better to argue and try to convince Cas to wake now with him or to play along with whatever Cas was doing. The Angel had never been easy to talk out of whatever plan he’s had in the past. Once the stubborn son of a bitch was sure that what he was doing was the right thing there was simply no changing his mind. Decision made, Dean spoke, “Okay, so, what’s that then? How can I help?”

Cas looked at him like that was the last thing he had been expecting to hear come out of his mouth and maybe it was. “You want to help?”

“Sure,” Dean gave him a lopsided smile and a half shrug, “why not?”

“Alright,” Cas said after a thoughtful pause. Dean moved around the bench, coming to stand behind the Angel as Cas started assembling what he needed in front of them both, all of which seemed to be small pots of paint. Not understanding what any of this meant Dean remained silent, watching what the Angel was doing closely from over his shoulder.

“This is the simplest way I can think of to explain it to you,” Castiel told him as he worked, prizing the lids off with an old screwdriver. Once they were all opened he stood aside and gestured to the rainbow assortment before them both. “Find the yellow,” he said seriously.

Giving Cas a confused side-eye, still not following, but trusting he would get an answer eventually, Dean does what he’s told and picks up the one containing the vibrant yellow paint.

“That’s how easy it is when you know them, even if I were to mix it with another color, or add a million other shades, you’d still know that was yellow.”

It wasn’t a question, Cas was stating a fact, but Dean nodded anyway, slowly. “Where are you going with this Cas?”

“This is how I see emotions, Dean.” Cas stated as he started pouring the paints randomly onto the bench top, working quickly as he spoke. “Angel’s aren’t meant to feel. Any we do we have to repress. So I have very little experience in coping with them openly. It’s been insanely confusing at times. Visualizing them as colors has helped me.” When they were all emptied, Cas pressed his palm into the mess and swirled it round.

Now really wasn’t the time for finger painting, but Dean remained quiet, giving the Angel a chance. Truth be told he was a little curious to what Cas was trying to explain, and he’d gone this far, might as well get the full story.

“It allows me to decipher them individually, but when I get many at once and they get muddled and it’s very hard to understand, to pick each one from the mass.” Castiel continued to stir the paint as he spoke, holding up his hand to Dean when he finished, showing him the messy palm and fingers, coated in well mixed brown. “Can you see the yellow now, Dean?”

“No,” Dean admitted sadly, believing he was starting to see Cas’ point.

“Now imagine how hard it would be if you’d been born colorblind and only recently gained the ability to see them. How then would you know which is yellow?”

A stab of empathy and guilt punched into Dean’s chest. He had never before considered how learning to feel must be for Cas. It was something people do naturally, with no thought as to why But to an Angel it was an alien concept, completely against his nature. He should have realized how hard it was for Cas, how confusing it must have been for him. He should have been there to help him through it before now and he vowed to do so in the future, if Cas would allow him to. But for now he couldn't let Cas continue on like this knowing what he did. Knowing the reason for Cas’ confusion. 

With a mournful sign, Dean gently took Cas’ cheek and turned the Angel’s head up to face him, dropping his hand when Cas’ eyes met his. “Is this ‘cause of what happened last night? Is that what you're trying to figure out?” Dean asked, hoping he was wrong, knowing he was right.

“Yes.”

Knowing didn’t make the answer hurt less. Dean swallowed dryly, choking down his own feelings, focusing on what his Angel needed. “Well, then you don’t have to worry about it... What happened, it wasn’t you. That’s why it’s confusing. What you were feeling wasn’t real. It didn’t come from you.”

Cas’ frown, complete with the held tilt and questioning eyes, increased and drove him to explain further. 

“Amara, she urm, she promised me something, as a thank you I guess... but it’s what caused all that. I think we were being controlled, a spell or something. Last night that... what happened... Cas, it wasn’t us.”

In less than a blink, upright suddenly became horizontal. The air behind him becoming soft pillows and memory foam. Cas was hovering over him, his bare chest pressed down tight to Dean’s own, his face like a thunderous storm cloud, inches off Dean’s. “What exactly did she say? Tell me everything!”

The intensity of Cas’ ‘you speak or I smite’ stare, coupled with his being so close Dean could feel every breath Cas spoke puff against his face, seemed to draw the truth from Dean’s lips without any conscious thought. “She- Before she left with Chuck she said I’d given her what she needed most and wanted to do the same for me.”

“That’s it?” 

Still caught in that penetrating stare Dean’s nod was quick but silent.

“That’s what has led you to believe that we weren’t acting on our own behalf?”

Another mute nod, this one less eager, more wary, more edged with guilt.

Staying in Dean’s personal space, Cas backed up ever so slightly, giving Dean some much needed room to breath. The Angel dropped his head, breaking the stare. “So you believe **_I_ ** was what you needed most.”

It wasn’t a question, it was sighed out from the Angel, in a quiet breath of relief. But it was a realized deep confession, that Dean didn’t want known. He opened his mouth abruptly to deny it, closing it immediately after when he realized that he had no idea how to do so. There was no way he could sway any argument and make it believable after what he had just unwittingly admitted. He had, and still did, believe that Cas was what he needed most and Cas now, thanks to his confession, knew that as well.

“I was never going to act on it,” Dean admitted, trying to make it sound like the apology that it was, because he was sorry. Sorry his feelings had gotten between them. Sorry that he had dragged Cas into this mess. Sorry that he had risked their friendship because of it all. He was just sorry. 

“Why?” 

The stare was back. Softer and less smite worthy, but just as intense, causing Dean to stammer. “Cause I-...I knew you didn’t-” 

He shook his head unable to finish either sentence. How could he explain that to Cas? How could he explain it in a way that would make Cas understand. “You’re a frigging Angel, Cas... I shouldn’t... You deserve better.”

Cas held a look of complete disbelief and sorrow. “Dean, you just entered my mind without any hesitation or thought to what risk you may be putting yourself in and yet you still refuse to have any faith in yourself. Still don’t see the goodness and the strength of your soul.”

Dean turned away. He wasn’t worthy of praise for something he had caused. “I fucked up, Cas. I was cleaning up my mess.” 

Cas’ frustrated sigh ghosted over Dean’s chest, leaving a speckling of goosebumps in its wake. “When I raised you perdition I believed you thought that you didn’t deserve to be saved, but I was wrong.You don’t think you deserve to be loved.”

Dean’s heart hammered hard in his chest. It didn’t sound like the rejection he had been expecting, far from it, but he didn’t dare hope.

“Dean, look at me.” His chin is urged up until wary green meets with sincere blue. “I went into my own mind because what I felt was intense and confusing... Not because it wasn’t real. I meant everything I said. Coerce or not, it was the truth.”

“You mean you...?” He couldn’t finish. Didn’t know how to. All endings seemed impossible.  _ ‘Wanted me too.’ ‘feel the same’. _

“Yes, Dean.” Cas’ words, spoken like a vow, came out like a hot rush against Dean’s skin. 

Cas leant closer, close enough that they were breathing each other's breaths. But there he paused, allowing Dean a chance to pull away, to reject it or accept it, whatever he chose. 

But there really was no choice. Closing his eyes, Dean swallowed, hard. Their lips were barely an inch apart and Dean lifted up till he could feel the air between them tingle. It was all the signal Cas needed and, lips parting, he smoothly closed the distance between them.

Dean melted into the kiss. His hands coming up automatically to pull Cas closer still, hold him against his chest, feeling that weight that he had the night before, still unable to believe that it was all real. It was really happening. 

All too soon, Castiel pulled back, his head jolting towards the door, as his brow furrowed, “Are you expecting company?” he asked, listening intently at something Dean’s human hearing was not strong enough to pick up. 

“No,” Dean stated bluntly, wondering who it was Cas could be hearing. And was just about to ask when the sound of what was unmistakably a gunshot echoed loudly through the bunker. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know another Cliffhanger. Sorry, not sorry. I'm not kidding when I say there will be lots.   
> All comments, question and queries are more than welcome. In fact they are appreciated as they keep me focused on getting chapters up quicker.  
> Love SGsVamp xXx


	3. To Tame a Land

**Chapter Three**

**To Tame a Land**

If Sam was being honest with himself, saying to a gun toting stranger who had just broken into the bunker “we both know you’re not going to pull the trigger” probably wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done.

But he honestly didn’t think she would. 

The pretty, if somewhat psychopathic, blonde didn’t appear to pose any threat. In comparison to some of the adversaries they had been up against she looked more like she was going to go horseback riding with Mary Poppin than shoot anyone.

Keeping tight grip above the bullet hole now in his upper left thigh to reduce the blood flow, Sam realized just how wrong he’d been. He had underestimated her and not wanting to make the same mistake twice, he quickly took stock of what little he knew.

Lady Toni Bevell, from the British Men of Letters she had claimed. She was quickly on the draw, so clearly comfortable and trained in handling firearms, but she hadn’t shot to kill, choosing to lodge the bullet in his leg rather than a fatal shot to any major organs or head. That gave weight to her claim that the British Men of Letters were not here to kill him, but to take him in for questioning. They clearly needed him for some reason, although what that reason was exactly remained a mystery. If they wanted help they were going the wrong way about it.

She was currently dripping blood on the library floor from a wound on her palm. Self inflicted if the banishing sigil on the pillar beside her was anything to go by. So she knew about angels and was ready to get Castiel out of her way should he make an appearance. It confirmed what she had said about the Brits keeping an eye on their American counterparts, although when she had asked about Dean’s whereabouts she seemed to believe him when Sam had lied and claimed Dean had died taking out the darkness. So although she was informed it wasn’t one-hundred percent up to date. 

That gave him some hope. She would be clueless to the fact that Castiel was currently comatosed and Dean was under the effects of the African Dream root. The new couple were sitting ducks if she went scouting around now, but if he could buy Dean enough time for him to get Castiel out, or for the tea to wear off, then there was a chance. Sam’s only worry was that Dean had been out cold for over twice as long as any of the previous dream walks had been before. He had expected there to be differences as Cas was an Angel, but he had anticipated them both, or at least Dean to be out of it by mid-afternoon at the latest. It was now into the early hours of the morning and neither of them had shown any signs of coming around the last few times he had checked in on them both.

For now all Sam could do was stall, hopefully to give his brother the time he needed, and try not to bleed out in the meantime. 

As if psychic as well as psychopathic the woman demanded, “Where’s the Angel?”

“He went to retrieve Dean’s body,” Sam said, quickly giving weight to his previous lie. He made his face fall and voice catch as he spoke. Even with her keeping her distance she would clearly be able to see the mournful expression he managed. “He’s a hero. He saved the world...again. He deserved a decent burial.”

**xXxXxXxXx**

With his back pressed tight against the wall, Dean peered around the corner, peeking into the library, quickly assessing the situation. 

Sam was hurt. The gunshot that he and Cas had heard just a few moments earlier had clearly found it’s target. His brother was slumped on the floor, his wounded leg stretched out in front of him, with a tight grip at the top, keeping pressure on the wound. He was alert and lucid. That was good, but the blood that was slowly pooling underneath him and the whitening of his face meant that Dean needed to act soon. 

There was only one intruder, as Cas had told him. Using his superior hearing the Angel had been able to fill Dean in on everything that was being said, while Dean had quickly thrown on the first shirt he had laid his hands on, not caring that it was inside out (Cas was dressed in a blink). The blonde woman was standing over Sam with her gun raised and trained on him. Too close for Dean to reach either of them before she could retaliate. They needed a distraction.

“The world wouldn’t have needed saving if it wasn’t for you two Neanderthals blundering into things without a clue.” Dean heard her smug reply to Sam. 

Luckily she seemed to be buying Sam’s cover story that Dean was dead and Cas was out looking for his body. That at least would give them the element of surprise. He’d been worried that Sam’s story was too far fetched to be believable. Not that Cas wouldn’t have gone looking for him, of course he would have, but they all knew that if the soul bomb had been used then there wouldn’t have been a body to recover. 

Dean nodded Cas over, indicating that the pair should swap places so the Angel could see what they were up against also. She wasn’t facing them, but Dean couldn’t risk being seen in her peripheral vision if they came out now. That would put Sam in more danger. It was three against one, but Sam was wounded and he-

“Cas!” Dean forced out in a hushed whisper, his eyes widening in dread, as the Angel stepped out from their hiding place, striding purposefully towards the woman. “Wait! Dammit!” 

Her attention snapped immediately to the approaching thunderous Angel, as Dean dove out behind him. Multiple gunshots hammered out in quick succession. From behind, Dean saw Castiel’s body jerk with each impact, yet his steps didn’t falter. Speededly she reached to the side, her hand slamming down on the bloodied sigil. 

Nothing happened. She didn’t have time to realize her mistake, before she was an unconscious heap on the floor by Castiel’s feet.

With a breath of relief, Sam lowered his own weapon. Having used her distraction he had seized his chance to tug his gun from the back of his belt, his single shot had chipped away at the pillar, defacing the symbol and rendering it useless before her palm could slammed ineffectively down upon it. 

“I got her. Help Sam.” Dean kicked her gun away from where it had fallen from her lax grip. 

Castiel hurried away, as Dean checked her over. She was still breathing, but there was a bruise already forming where the Angel’s fist had collided with her temple. Cas hadn't been fucking around. He could have made her fall asleep with a simple touch, instead he had chosen to knock her out with a solid right hook. His Angel was pissed! He patted her down, searching for any more weapons she could have concealed about her person.

“Dean. Somethings wrong.” 

He jerked his head up at the sound of his name. Cas is knelt over Sam, but instead of healing him, as Dean expected him to be, Cas was staring at his own hands, a look of bewilderment dominating his features. “What?”

“I’m powerless,” Cas said, returning Dean’s look with a helpless one of his own, that has Dean hurrying over to the pair of them.

“My powers, something’s blocking them.” Cas explained as Dean took his place by his brother. He didn’t have time to question it now, Sam was bleeding out. Badly. That wound needed tending to, and quickly. He could deal with what was wrong with his Angel once Sam’s life wasn’t in jeopardy.

“Gimme ya belt,” Dean demanded, pulling Sam’s knife from where it was sheathed in his boot. “And get me something to clean and stitch this up.” 

With a quick nod Cas did as was asked and hurried off. Dean looped the belt high on his brother’s leg, pressing the loose end into Sam’s hand. “Hold that. Keep it tight.”

“I know the drill, Dean.” Sam huffed out gruffly through gritted teeth and tugged.

“Do you want something to bite on?” 

“Just get on with it!”

Not needed to be told twice, Dean ripped the hole in Sam’s jeans wider to get a better look at what he was dealing with and was deciding the best way to go in, when Cas came back with everything he’d need. Whiskey was poured over the knife and then over the wound with a sharper hiss of pain from Sam. With both as sterile as possible Dean paused for just a moment to mentally prepare himself, before bringing the knife down. 

“Cas,” Sam gestured, “you’re bleeding.”

Both of them followed Sam’s line of sight to Castiel’s chest. The Angel looking perplexed at the three seeping blotches of crimson staining the white of his shirt. 

“Son of a bitch!” Dean sighed out, almost under his breath, drawing Cas’ attention to the troubled looking hunter instead.

“I’m fine, Dean,” Cas quickly reassured, seeing the troubled dilemma on the hunter’s face. Dean wouldn’t leave either of them hurt, but he could only help one at a time. But for Castiel the choice was simple. Bullets couldn’t kill Angels. Even with Sam shot in a non-life threatening area he was still more at risk, and therefore took priority. “How can I help?” 

With a slight shake to clear his head, Dean snapped his focus back on his brother, taking the belt from him and handing it to Cas. “Hold that. Keep it tight.” He didn’t need to elaborate. Didn’t need to express his worry at how much blood Sam had lost, Cas understood. He took the belt and with his free hand pulled the flap of denim out of Dean’s way also.

Blowing out a steadying breath, Dean set to work, forcing his focus on Sam and what he was doing. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was wrong with his Angel. That woman had shot him and moments later Cas’ mojo had failed. It was obviously not regular bullets she was using. They’d need to check them, but he couldn’t risk Sam bleeding out in the meanwhile. One thing at a time. He would deal with Cas once Sam was out of danger.

“So the dream root worked?” Sam asked, his eyes squinted close, jaw tensed against the pain.

Dean’s eyes flashed briefly up to his brothers, before returning. He knew that Sam was grasping at any subject as a distraction, and he would want to know what happened, but Dean really, really didn’t want to think about all the fucked up things he had seen in his stroll down angelic Elm Street, much less talk about it. Especially not now when he needed to focus.

“Sort of?” Dean gripped out non-communicationally, hoping the discomfort in his voice would be enough to convince his brother to not go there.

But at the same time, overlapping Dean, Cas added, “Angels don’t dream.”

“What happened?” Sam asked, deliberately directing his question to Cas, as it was clear the Angel was going to be the more forthcoming of the two of them. He winced as Dean hit something hard at the end of the knife and started the process of trying to hook it out of his brother's leg. 

Letting Dean concentrate, Castiel answered. “What Dean accessed were my memories.”

“Your memories?” Sam parroted, sucking in sharply as Dean dug a little less gentle than was probably necessary. 

Castiel nodded, though it occurred to him that the younger brother wouldn’t be able to see it with his eyes as tightly closed as they were, so he quickly explained. “I had retreated into my head to give myself some time to think. I used to only do it while in heaven, but that’s no longer an option. In hindsight, I should probably have warned you both.”

“We were concerned,” Sam said in agreement, glancing over at his older brother’s face pulled in with concentration, and remembering the total panicked look Dean had been sporting only that morning.

“You could have prayed,” Cas stated, matter-of-factly. “I would have heard it.” 

Sam let out a weak-sounding chuckle. “Well, we’ll have to bear that in mind for next time.” 

‘ _ No, no next time, not ever _ .’ Dean wanted to scream at the pair of them, unable to believe how nonchalantly they were talking. They could have just as easily been discussing the weather. After everything he had seen in Cas’ memories he couldn’t make light of the horrors he’d witnessed, the mere thought tore up his insides. The unfazed way his brother and Angel spoke about it was grating his last nerve. Tensing his jaw he threw a look of total annoyance at the wound, keeping quiet so he could concentrate on the task at hand. 

He worked quickly, tuning out the conversation, until he tied the last stitch and announced that he was done. 

Looping his hand under Sam’s arm, Dean helped ease his brother to his feet. Sam hopped a few times, getting his balance on his good leg, before testing his weight on his wounded one. Dean had done a good job. The removal had been speedy without being rushed and the stitches were tight without pulling too badly on the tender flesh. With his weight settled, Sam met his brothers curiously worried eyes. “It’s good. I’m good.” he said, giving Dean an appreciative and approving slap on his shoulder. 

All the younger brother wanted to do was have a shower and get out of his blood coated jeans, that were starting to dry and catching the hairs on his leg, yanking at them with each movement, but first there were things that needed to be done. 

“So what should we do with her?” Sam lifted his chin to where Toni Bevell was still out cold on the floor.

The brothers met each other glances, nodding in unison. “Dungeon.” 

Hesitating, Dean turned his eyes to Cas, an apprehensive look on his troubled face. Castiel gave a half smile and nod to the hunter as he gestured with his head and eyes, out of the room. Reassured by his silent conversation with Cas, Dean hefted the petite woman over his shoulder and strode from the room with Sam hot on heels despite his slight limp. 

With the sound of the brothers irregular footfalls dulling as they distanced themselves from the library leaving Castiel alone, the Angel crouched and plucked up the bullet Dean had just removed from Sam's thigh. Pinching it between his thumb and forefinger, the Seraph brought it to his face, rolling it around as he studied it closely. It was such a small, harmless looking thing. Usually so unthreatening for an Angel, but with his powers muted Castiel wondered if it was as innocent as it appeared. Wiping his thumb across the slug to clear the blood away a sigil appeared beneath, scored onto the surface leaving a minimally indented edge. 

Castiel recognized the depowering sigil straight away, but he’d never seen, or heard of it being carved into bullets this way before. It was almost genius. Almost. With a slight tweak in the design they could have created something far more deadly to an Angel than simply rendering a celestial being impenitent. 

He was still staring at it when Dean returned, interloper free, a few minutes later. 

“That what’s fucking with your mojo?” Dean asked, peering over the Angel’s shoulder, sounding like he had already suspected that would be the case.

“I believe so,” Castiel answered, moving the bullet closer into Dean’s line of sight, so he could have a better view of the sigil beneath the smear of blood.

“Alright then,” Dean double slapped the tabletop. As he snatched up the kit he had used to patch up Sam, Castiel stripped off his outer layers and perched himself on the edge of the table without hesitation, silently accepting the help without comment or complaint. Castiel leaned back, looking up with trusting eyes, as Dean nudged his knees apart with his hip, moving between them to get a closer look. 

Swallowing, Dean willed himself to not be distracted by the miles of smooth skin and toned muscles displayed openly before him. Forcing his eyes to stay focused instead on the three small wounds, one near his left shoulder the other two unevenly placed on either side of his Angel’s heart, where the bullets were still embedded. 

“Does it hurt?” Dean asked, pressing gently to the side of the wound on Cas’ left pectoral, gauging his reaction. If Cas had been human they would be fatal, but his Angel is barely bleeding and only seemed mildly annoyed by the whole ordeal. 

“Itches a little,” Cas replied sounding a little irritated, but definitely not in pain. Which Dean suspected was more to do with the Angel losing his mojo than anything else. Hell, Cas hadn’t even noticed he’d been wounded until Sam had pointed it out to him. 

“Okay,” Dean said, letting out a steading breath, reassured that at least he wouldn’t be hurting his Angel while he was helping him. He held the skin taut in one hand so he could work the knife in and under. 

For the second time that day, Dean set about trying to fix up his Angel. Okay, when Cas had gone into his head he hadn’t needed fixing per sé. It was a perfectly normal behaviour for him, if what he’d told Sam was true, but now his Angel had his ojo on lockdown and could have been seriously hurt if those engraved sigils had been anything else. And all because he’d charged in before Dean could formulate a proper plan of attack. 

“What the hell was that back there, Cas?” Dean glared, intermittently jumping his eyes to Cas’ while he worked, earning himself a confused head-tilted squint in return. “You can’t just go charging in like that. You could’ve gotten yourself killed.”

Castiel’s frown increased and Dean forced his eyes to stay locked on what he was doing so he didn’t have to face that probing look. “Guns aren’t a threat to me, Dean.”

“Says the guy with more holes in him than Swiss cheese,” Dean snorted, as he eased the first of the bullets out, dropping it on the tabletop with a thunk to emphasise his point. 

Because he was right and Cas knew it, even if he wouldn’t admit it. Guns may not be a threat, but if the bitch had bullets that stripped his powers there was no telling what else she had in her arsenal. He didn’t want to think about what could happen if a banishing sigil had been lodged in Cas’ flesh instead. Would it have banished him from his vessel or had a more lethal consequence. 

Even without looking Dean could feel Cas analyzing gaze burn into the side of his head as he bowed over Cas’ chest. Wiping over the first hole, there was very little to no bleeding, so he decided to forgo the stitches and instead shifted to reach the second wound close by, trying to keep focus on his work. 

“You think I acted differently because we had sex?” Castiel’s tone was soft as a whisper, yet it cut like a hot knife through butter straight to the heart of what Dean was skimming around trying to avoid. 

The hunter huffed in frustration. Dammit, how did Cas do that? See through all the bullshit right to the root of what was troubling him. 

“Were you?” he shot back, a single brow raising accusingly. 

Cas gave him a critical look, pausing for a short moment, as if to consider the possibility...before rejecting it all together. “No.” 

“You sure about that?” Dean asked, “‘cause you just spent hours inside your own head trying to figure out how you feel. So how can you be sure?”

Castiel’s brow drew in, offended and hurt becoming very prominent as he tried to catch Dean’s busy eyes. “Not understanding something doesn’t make it nonexistent, Dean. From the beginning I was...” The Angel took a sighing breath, wetting his lips. “I’ve always been drawn to you.”

Always? Dean’s head jumped up in surprise, meeting the honest openness in his Angel’s eyes. “You never said anything.” The words left Dean’s lips before he even realised he’d spoken.

“Neither did you,” Cas shot right back accusingly, causing Dean to open his jaw to defend himself only to snap it shut with an audible click, when he realised he didn’t have a leg to stand on. 

All those years he’d harboured feelings for his Angel, while keeping the truth to himself and effectively friendzoning him. Now understanding how difficult it was for him to interpret human emotion he realised just how misleading his mixed signals must have been for Cas.

Dean softly cleared his throat, trying to break the awkward tension that was building between them. “So, you really feel things in colors huh?” he asked, hoping Cas either wouldn’t notice the deliberate change of subject, or at least wouldn’t comment on it. 

“Not exactly,” Cas shrugged his shoulders, careful to keep the movement slight so not to jossel his chest. “But it was the simplest way to explain.”

“You dumbed it down for me?” Dean’s eyes flicked up brief enough to catch the start of an amused grin pull on Cas’ lips.

“No. I didn’t know how you were there or how long it would last so I gave you, as you would say, the short version.”

“You’ve got my undivided now,” Dean said, feeling a lot more at ease now he wasn’t the main focus of the conversation. “Lay it on me.” 

Cas took a breath, deep but slow, as he watched the hunter’s knife working carefully into the second wound with rapped interest. “When I first started feeling it was...confusing. It was like a floodgate had been opened, one I had no idea how to close or understand or express. So I sort guidance from the only other Angel that I knew could empathise. Anna.”

“You could have come to me,” Dean offered gently, pausing briefly to catch Cas’ eye. 

Castiel shook his head, a sad grin lifting the corner of his mouth. “You were heavily burdened at the time..." Taking a breath, he carried on. "Anna told me that I had to think for myself and it would get worse. The diversity, intensity and sheer magnitude was already becoming overwhelming. I needed to bring order to the chaos, so I assigned each new sensation a color. By doing so it allowed me to differentiate between them with greater confidence. It’s not completely effective, but it does help.”

Dean nodded along, listening carefully as he worked. He pulled the next bullet free. “Did ya ever figure out what that mess was?”

Cas looked thoughtful for a long moment, as Dean started on the last and final wound, this one embedded just below the ball of his shoulder. “I’m... not entirely sure,” he said hesitantly. 

“Well, not to go all Doctor Phil on ya,” Dean replied. He was already playing surgeon, why not add shrink to the mix as well. “But I’ve got some experience in human emotions. So, hit me. What’d it feel like?” 

Castiel thought for a while, watching Dean’s knife work into his shoulder. Strong, rough hands welding a weapon moving so delicately. His beautiful hunter was rarely what he first seemed. The Seraph had no doubt that Dean would be able to help, the struggle was finding the most accurate description for the hunter to understand. He had chosen colors for this precise reason. He didn’t have the words. 

“It’s like...” He licked his drying lips and started again. “Like you’re so happy it hurts, but you’re scared that it’ll stop hurting...and it feels like... like doubted certainty and such blissed joy... It's loyalty and vulnerable trust and... everything.”

“That’s a lot.” Dean sighed out.

Cas hummed in agreement, watching as Dean eased the final bullet free with the tip of his blade. “I think it’s love, Dean... Not Family or friendship, but ...true love.”

Dean’s breath caught in his throat, his heart hammering against his ribs. Swallowing nervously, he stammered out, “Did you figure out what color it was?” 

Cas gave a tiny half smile, his eyes guiding up to meet Dean’s, capturing him in a soft but holding stare.

“Green.” 

Completely dumbfounded, Dean could do nothing but stare back, unable to turn away from the knowing gaze Cas seemed to have trapped him in. Had Cas just told him that in his own fucked up ‘Angel’s shouldn’t feel’ way that he was... in love with him? He knew there were feelings there. More than brotherhood, or comradeship. But love? True love. It was... it was so far beyond huge that it was dizzying, yet the look of intrepid awe and reverence he was getting, somehow made it impossible to deny. 

“Are you done?”

Blinking quickly, Dean tried to clear the reeling in his mind and focus on what Cas was saying. “Wha’?”

“Are you done?” Castiel repeated, nodded downwards towards Dean’s hand. 

Dean followed the Angel’s gesture, surprised to find himself holding aloft the last bullet in his red stained fingers. “Oh... Oh, yeah. Try it now.”


	4. Stranger in a Strange Land

**Chapter Four**

**Stranger In a Strange Land**

  
  


Leaning against the cool tile, Dean bowed his head under the hot spray. Letting the pelted droplets cascade down his face and pour in a steady stream off his chin, while the steam rose off his too tensed shoulders, fogging up the already well fogged bathroom. The bunker really did have amazing water pressure and there was nothing like a piping hot shower for washing away all the stresses the day had brought...and it had been a long day full of panic over people he cared about, right from the moment he had opened his eyes. 

Waking up to the sight of Cas’ unblinking, non-responsive, staring had filled him with so much dread that even now, hours later from when it happened, he could still feel the reminisce of that panic gripping his chest.

Cas had been fine, of course, completely indifferent to the whole experience. It was natural to him, maybe even therapeutic. But what Dean had seen in the Angel’s memories had shaken him, more than he would ever admit and he knew it would haunt him for a long time to come. He would never forget how Castiel’s so-called ‘family’ had treated him. Nor would he forgive, but Cas seemed to be unfazed about it all, or had put it all behind him. Whichever the case may be, Dean would try to do the same. He most certainly didn’t want to bring it up and risk Cas having to relive some painful memories in the process. There was nothing Dean understood more than choking down traumas until they don’t hurt anymore. If that’s what Cas wanted to do, or had done, who was he to judge. Dean could keep up the charade if that's what his Angel wanted, but that wasn’t the only thing that was currently making his stomach turn uneasily. 

If Cas had understood his feelings correctly then the Angel was... in love with him. It sounded absurd, so unlikely that even the thought of it seemed dream-like and too good to be true. Dean had grown so used to pushing aside his feelings that he had never considered the possibility that they could be reciprocated. 

But that left Dean with a bigger dilemma, because every relationship he had ever had, had gone to crap at some point. The hunter life just didn’t include a white picket fence and roses ’round the door. Domesticity and ganking demons don’t mix. You can’t go for a moonlit stroll with your honey when you know what goes bump in the night. One night stands, booty calls and quick flings were the only option Dean believed he’d ever had.

Amara’s magic had challenged that. Dean didn’t believe in fate or destiny, or any of that other Hallmark crap, but he believed in coincidences even less. And mere moments after he had pulled Cas from his self-induced mind trance both Sam as well as Cas had been hurt. There were only so many times and so many signs that could be thrown in his face, before he had to sit up and take notice. 

He scrubbed his hands through his saturated hair. It was no wonder that his shoulders were knotted together tighter than the box of jumper cables in Baby’s trunk. 

He hoped with everything that he had that he was not making a mistake, or playing Russian roulette with the lives of the people he cared about. Because it was too late for him, he was in too deep. From the second Cas’ lips had met his own he knew he was a lost cause, but it wasn’t until the Angel’s confused confession that it had really hit home for Dean. It wasn’t just a roll in the hay, for the Angel either. It was the real deal. Something he had also wanted for a long time, but never thought it would be possible. 

Snatching up his body wash, he scrubbed harshly at his skin. Trying to scrub away his more troubling thoughts, wash them away down the drain and focus on the positive. Trying to force himself to realize that despite the shaky start, all three of them, Sam, Cas and himself were now all well and healthy. After he had taken the last bullet from Cas the Angel’s mojo had instantly returned. He’d healed himself and then Sam with no trouble. In fact, apart from the Bond villainess currently residing in their dungeon all was right with the world. 

Lady Bevell had been awake for a while now, but she was locked and chained up securely in the bunker's hidden dungeon and Dean was far from in a rush to deal with her. It would be better in the long run to let her stew. There was nothing like letting someone sit alone with their own panic to loosen their tongue. She was trained, so she would probably be expecting the hunters to use that tactic, it was a classic after all, but the poetic justice Dean had planned she couldn’t be prepared for. 

Letting his head fall back, Dean breathes in the hot steamy air. Maybe he was overthinking things, but if life had taught him anything it was that if something seemed too good to be true it probably was. 

Stepping out, he grabbed up a towel and dried quickly. Wrapping it low on his hips he went to leave. But as he passed the mirror something in his reflection caught his eye.

On his left bicep, right up by his shoulder, was a handprint. He twisted to get a better view. The mark was the exact same size, shape and placement as the one Cas had left on him from dragging his ass outta Hell. But that one had faded away to nothing years ago, not even leaving a scar and at no point did he remember it looking like this. Before it had been harsh and raised, like he had been branded by his saving Angels hand. This one wasn’t. It wasn’t raised, it didn’t look burnt. It was smooth with a faint silvery shimmer to it. A ghost of what was. And unlike the other, when he gently ran his thumb over it, the marking didn’t hurt. 

Unfazed, Dean smiled to himself. It must be some residual Angel mojo left over from his mind walk. Or maybe the night before. After all he hadn’t just been touched by an Angel, he’d been fucked by one. Dean silently chuckled to himself, shaking his head, as the thought of an ‘angelic hickey’ crossed his mind. Snagging up his clothes in a bundle, he left. 

Castiel looked up as Dean elbowed open the door. If the hunter was surprised to see the Angel sat on his bed, patiently waiting for him, he hid it almost flawlessly... almost. 

Dean hid things well, but he was too expressional to hide them completely, even without being able to sense it Castiel would have seen the apprehension that had been plaguing Dean on and off throughout the course of the day, from the moment the hunter had walked into Castiel’s memory. “Hello Dean.”

“Hey, Cas,” Dean returned the greeting, as he kicked the door closed and dropped his dirty clothes into the hamper. Turning he paused when he took in the Angel’s expression, stuck somewhere between concern and annoyance. “You okay?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Cas replied accusingly, with a knowing raise of his eyebrows. 

“I’m fine,” he replied gruffly. However the further raising of the Angel’s brow clearly showed he wasn’t being believed. 

With another ‘I’m fine’, ‘I’m great’ or other similes ready to jump from his lips, Dean stopped and reconsidered. He was ‘fine’, at least in the physical sense of the word, but it was abundantly clear that wasn’t what Cas was asking about. He’d been in his head for the bulk of the day, too focused on his own doubts and concerns to think about how his behavior could be interpreted by his Angel and it’s clear from Cas’ expression that his troubled musings hadn’t gone unnoticed. He was left with really only one option, because Cas clearly wasn’t going to be swayed with any denial Dean could throw at him. Dean could claim to be okay till the cows came home, but his Angel wasn’t going to believe it and if anyone could out stubborn a Winchester it was the Angel currently waiting for an answer. 

“We were magicked together, Cas,” Dean began his confession, letting his words flow freely, barely recognizing that Cas was arguing over him.

“I don’t think it was magic, Dean.”

“-Magic like that you don’t get for free. You pay for it in blood, so what was I meant to think when I woke up to find you comatosed-” 

“Self induced inner reflection bears no comparison to a coma.”

“-and then I get a backstage pass to the showreel of Castiel’s treehouse of horrors,” 

“-There was a treehouse?”

“Sammy got shot, you got shot, you lost your powers. How many more warnings are we gonna get?”

Castiel rose silently to his feet, stepping into Dean’s personal space. “Have you’ve changed your mind?”

“What? No!... no, it’s not that, it’s...” Dean broke off and sucked in a sharp breath. And dammit this conversation would be a lot easier if Cas wasn’t fixing him with a look like he was a puppy that had just been kicked. “Winchesters don’t get happy endings. Do you really want to get tied up with that crap?”

“Dean,” his voice was soft and almost soulfully sad, as his eyes fixed to the hunters, more open and intimate than anything they did together the night before. “Is that really what you think?”

“I dunno man,” Dean shrugged, feeling vulnerable under Cas’ intense gaze that seemed to stare into him as if he could see though to Dean’s every inner most thoughts he’d ever had, past, present, and if he stared harder enough probably future too. He dropped his eyes to the ground. “But it seems too much to be a coincidence.”

Castiel is so close that Dean feels his annoyed huff breeze over his cheek. “Dean, this needs to stop! If you have changed your mind, or don’t want this, then you need to tell me,” Dean shakes his head in denial as Cas talks, but the Angel carries on regardless. “And as much as it may hurt I will let you go, but if all this today was simply due to paranoid fears-”

“Paranoid?” Dean scoffs, his eyes jumping up, hotly glaring at Castiel. “What makes you so sure-”

“Because it came from Amara,” Cas interjected, “so I doubt it was a spell. And even if it was, we didn’t cast it, so the price would not be ours to pay.” 

Dean remained silent, his jaw tensing, not wanting to admit that Cas had a point. And it’s a point Dean hadn’t considered. He’d been so caught up in the possible ramifications that he hadn’t stopped to realize that neither of them were responsible. 

“Do you regret what happened?” Cas’ squinted his eyes, making his already soul piercing stare all the more penetrating.

Caught in the Angel’s gaze Dean doubted he would be able to lie even if he wanted to. “No,” he said honestly. Because even if there were cosmic consequences he would never regret being able to physically show his Angel what he didn’t have the words for. It had been one of, if not  **_the_ ** , best night of his life. He would never regret it, not if he lived for a hundred, a thousand, a million years. 

“So what happened wasn’t against our freewill. We both wanted it and given the chance neither of us would change it,” Castiel said.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, because dammit Cas was right. Amara hadn’t conjured artificial feelings, she had only brought to the surface ones that both of them had repressed, for years. 

A ball of guilt gripped at his stomach. He’d behaved like a dick to Cas all day because of his own misgivings, and at a time that Cas had already admitted was intensely confusing for him. Cas had told him he loved him, he hadn’t used those exact words, but the meaning was clear as glass and Dean had said nothing, just ran off like a little bitch at the first opportunity. After years of mixed signals and friend-zoning, the Angel deserved better. 

Before he could verbalize his thought however, Cas continued. “Do you have anymore made-up reasons for torturing yourself or are you done being a dumbass?”

Chuckling at his Angel’s cursing, Dean nodded in agreement. His eyes danced upward, a cheeky smile tugging one corner of his mouth. “I deserved that.” 

“Right now, I’m not inclined to disagree,” Cas replied grumpily, folding his arms across his chest. 

Dammit how did the Angel make a bad mood look so freaking cute? Closing the miniature distance between them, Dean slipped his hand inside Cas’ coat, lightly taking hold of the others hips. “I’ve been an idiot, Cas... But the question is; are you gonna let me make it up to you?”

Taken aback by Dean’s abrupt shift in attitude, Castiel’s arms dropped seemingly without thought, his annoyed frown and pout falling off his face just as quickly. Allowing himself to be pulled close to his hunters body, Cas falters for a second before regaining his composure. “What do you have in mind?”

“Oh I don’t know,” Dean breathed, running his hand to the small of the Angel’s back, before dropping lower. “How about something a little less ‘Dumb’ and a lot more ‘Ass’.” He winked. 

Dean takes Cas’ little grin as this time he is ‘inclined to agree’ and pulls the Angel into a fierce kiss. He’s sure no matter how many times this happens, he’ll never get used to kissing Castiel. There’s just something about the effect it has on the hunter. The way his heart want to swoon and his body melt, the way his stomach jumps as if shocked and the tingle that runs through his skin. Despite the Angel’s lack of experience his lips seem to move and mold to the hunters as if they were made to fit his own, so perfectly. 

Having learnt from the night before that Cas took far too long to get naked, Dean quickly started stripping him, pleased when the Angel caught on and toed off his shoes before helping to rid himself of the remainder of his clothing. Without breaking from their eager kissing, Dean presses his palm flat to Cas’ chest, guiding him backwards until the Angel’s calves hit the bed and he sat heavily, looking up at the hunter with wide, excited eyes. Tugging his towel from his midsection Dean threw it aside, draping one leg over to straddled the Angel’s lap. He wrapped his arm around Cas’ shoulders, closing his eyes at the feeling of their bare chests flushed against each other. 

“Last night...did you like how it ended?” Dean asked, rolling his hips to rub their groins together. 

Cas’ head tilted questioning to the left. “Exploding the bedroom?”

A deep chuckle escaped Dean. He should have known that, with as literal as Cas could be, he would need a more direct approach. He leaned down, keeping his Angel’s gaze in his sight, his eyes sparkling with mischief, as he whispered huskily, “Did you like coming in my ass, Cas?”

A full bodied tremor rolled through the Angel between his thighs. “Very much so,” he breathed heavily, ‘little Cas’ twitching in agreement against Dean’s stomach.

“We can do that,” Dean promised. “But I wanna try something first.” 

Keeping his eyes fixed on Cas’, Dean lowered to his knees, parting Cas’ legs to slide in between them. The Angel watched him intently as Dean pressed a first kiss to his inner thigh, inching upwards with each press of his lips until he reached his goal. Flattening his tongue Dean drew a drawn out swipe up Cas’ speedily growing erection.

Holy fuck! Cas tastes like the morning after a rainstorm and Dean wasted no time wrapping his lips around the head, sucking greedily.

“Ah...D-Dean?”

The curious tone told Dean this was another first for the Angel. He wasn’t surprised. No one who Cas had been with would have cared enough about his pleasure to do this for him. But Dean did. He wanted Cas to have the full experience, know what true pleasure was. He yearned to see Cas coming ungripped, by his hand - or well, mouth. There was slight confusion in the questioning way Cas had spoken Dean’s name, but no hesitancy, not a drop of it. Even without looking the human could tell Cas had no objections to what Dean was currently doing with his mouth and tongue, in fact if the way his breathing was hitching and the way he was twitching inside Dean’s mouth with every swipe of his tongue, he was enjoying it, a lot, even if it was new and probably unexpected for the Angel. 

Castiel’s hands keep fisting and opening nervously by his side, like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“Relax, Cas,” Dean whispers against Cas’ skin, placing a kiss as low as he can on the Angel’s abdomen, feeling the muscles tense and the breath catch as he did. “Just relax.” 

He turns his eyes up, he can see Cas’ slowed blinks, eyes slightly unfocused, the lightly caught breaths, the way his Angel keeps trying to look down to study what Dean is doing to him, but couldn’t stop his head from dropping back. Stiff controlled movements replaced with smoothness of instinct, that makes Dean want to say ‘hey, Cas your humanity is showing’, but he doesn’t, his mouth is too busy, enjoying what he’s doing far too much to ruin the moment with teasing... not that kind of teasing anyway. 

Castiel slides his hand into Dean's hair, nails softly scraping his scalp until they fist in a strong but gentle hold. He doesn't yank or tug, just held on. Needing a second physical connection to his hunter, one that isn't overwhelming him in pleasure so much that it’s making his toes curl and breath catch. A pleasure that feels like it’s crawling up his spine and making his body react in ways he isn’t in full control of. He needs it to stop, yet he needs it to continue. He needs more. He needs... 

Dean presses his palm to Cas’ abs, gently pushing against Cas’ uncontrolled thrusts that started threatening to make him gag. A vibration, that sounds suspiciously like a growl, ripples through the Angel’s torso.

A startle yelp would have left Dean, if it had time. But he didn’t. Before he’s aware of it the floor beneath his knees is gone, the cock in his mouth and the thighs bracketing his shoulders vanish. He’s on his back and his heart flutters in anticipation at the sight of his Angel hovering over him a hungry look in his beautiful eyes, before the Angel dives. 

There’s lips peppering kisses down his chest and cool slicked fingers  _ (When the hell did Cas get lube?) _ circling his hole. As it had done the night before, everything is happening so damn fast that Dean is getting dizzy trying to keep up. One of these days he’ll get his Angel to slow down...But then again, he rethinks as a finger is slipped tentatively inside and a drawn out moan escapes him, maybe he wouldn't. Cas may be eager, but he was also gentle where needed. Cas is his perfect amalgamation of hot lustful urgency, mixed with careful tender caresses. The way his finger  _ ‘finger?’ _ were gently working him open, so soft and with so much care, all the while the Angel’s mouth seems set on devouring every inch of his skin as he makes his way down to Dean’s abdomen, proves that. 

“Oh God! Fuck! Cas-” he choked out as he felt Cas’ tongue swiped unexpectedly up the length of him. Dean hadn’t expected that. So focused on what those fingers were doing Dean hadn’t considered what else the Angel might have had planned. He felt Cas’ smirk against his sensitive arousal, before he’s engulfed entirely. 

He can’t help the buck of his hips as he’s sucked, licked and - god help him - lightly scraped with gentle teeth. Tongue tracing each nerve ending with precision accuracy, all the while fingers continued to push and open, impossible to not demand the bulk of his attention.

The mixed sensations are too much to handle. 

Cas was just far too good at that and he had to stop or this was going to be over far too quickly. Dammit did the Angel even have a gag reflex? “Oh God. Cas!”

He shivers as the wet heat of Castiel’s mouth suddenly disappears and the cool air chills his overheated slick skin.

“Please stop calling my Father's name,” Castiel murmured, nudging Dean’s knees apart further as he crawled up over the hunter. “It’s very disconcerting.”

**xXxXxXxXx**

“Damn!” Dean panted, trying to get back control of his breathing, his post orgasm grin was too wide and thrown at the ceiling. “You’re too good at that.”

The Angel’s grin matched his lovers. “I have a good teacher,” Castiel replied, sliding down next to him and pulling the blankets over them both.

Dean chuckled, draping an arm over Cas’ shoulder so the Angel could snuggle into his side. “I hope you know you’re gonna be getting a ton of homework.”

“More fellatio?” Cas asked innocently, causing Dean to giggle once more. 

“It’s a blowjob, Cas.”

Castiel’s head lifted, his eyes going wide under a worried frown as he looked to Dean “I was meant to blow?”

“No, Cas. It’s just what it’s called,” 

Castiel let out a relieved breath, causing a trail of goosebump to prickle across Dean’s overheated chest. “So, what I did was correct?”

“Yeah, Cas. It was awesome.” Dean dropped a kiss to Cas’ forehead, running his palm down the Angel’s spine, noting both, unlike his own, were smooth and sweat free. He snorted. “Last time you blew up the bedroom, this time I find you don’t have a gag reflex. What ya gonna surprise me with next, Cas?” Dean laughed, only half joking. 

“You were surprised I didn’t gag, when I don’t eat?” Castiel asked. 

Well, damn, when he put it like that what was Dean meant to say, because it wasn’t until Cas pointed it out that he realized just how obvious it was. “Alright I’ll give you that,” Dean smiled, then pressed further. “But  **_will_ ** there be any more surprises?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel admitted after a moment of silence, “I’m trying to keep it as normal as possible for you.”

Dean wiggled up on his elbows so he could see Castiel clearly. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve seen what Angels can do to the human body, Dean.” Castiel said and Dean nodded along pointlessly. He’d seen them heal all sorts of injuries, remove organs, give diseases, make them fall asleep, some without even needing to touch the human. What could Cas do while literally inside of Dean?

“Are you saying you could use your mojo in the bedroom?” Dean asked, unable to keep his excitement from showing in his voice. The multiple possibilities already running rampant through his mind, dragging his thoughts straight down to the gutter. 

The way Cas gave him a slow look from the corner of his eye and his lips turned up in a sly smile, told Dean that ‘yes every dirty thing he was currently imagining was indeed possible’.

“I couldn't betray your freewill, Dean. But physical reaction and sensation, those are just nerves and flesh, and they could be manipulated.”

“So, what ya saying, Cas? You could make me hard but not horny?”

Castiel chuckled at Dean’s wide eyed expression. “I could, but I’m not going to.”

“Why not?” the hunter asked, unable to keep the pout off his face. Which only made Castiel chuckle all the harder.

“I think it would be best if only one of us was overwhelmed at a time.” Castiel leaned up, kissing those full lips that were pouting at him so delectably in would be a sin not to.

“I knew you were holding back on me,” Dean sniggered, making it sound very much like an ‘I told you so’. “So it could be something we could explore another time?”

“If that is something you want?”

Maybe it was after effects of the best orgasm of his life, but for the first time Dean’s blissed out mind throw complete cursion to the wind and he swore that from now on he was going to grab hold of Cas and not let anything or anyone, including himself, come between them.

“I want it all, Cas,” he said softly, cupping round the back of his Angel’s neck and gently pulling him closer ‘til their forehead rested together. “Like you said; I want all of it... with you.” 

Dean could feel Cas’ smile as he brought their lips together and couldn’t help but match it through their kiss. “And, for the record, you’ll never need mojo to get me horny.” 

His Angel’s smile turned quickly to laughter, before it was smothered with more kisses, until all that could be heard was the sound of their lips smacking slow and gently over each others.

When their leisurely kisses became more lazy and uncoordinated, Castiel pulled back. Combing his fingers through Dean’s hair, encouraging his hunter to slip into a richly deserved sleep. 

“Blowjob seems like a very crass expression for such an intimate act,” Castiel broke the silence moments later. 

Dean chuckled, his Angel wasn’t letting the subject drop easily. “You know what...” Dean mused sleepily, his eyes remaining closed as he started to drift off to slumberland. “You call it whatever you want, Baby.”

Castiel stared down at the hunter with wide eyes. Dean’s relaxed breathing became soft pur-like snores seconds later, as he slipped into sleep. 

Baby? 

It wasn’t the first time Castiel had heard Dean use other names for the Angel other than his own, in full or shortened. Huggy Bear, Sunshine as well as others, but ‘Baby’? That was new and unexpected. Castiel couldn’t help but smile shyly. 

He could, and probably should, take some inner reflection time, but he didn’t want to risk losing track of time and have Dean woken to a fright again, as he had done that morning. So instead Castiel settled for musing over the day while searching for constellations in the splattering of freckles laid out on the naked human’s skin. He already knew by memory the placement of each and every one, knew that none matched the star patterns perfectly, but he searched anyway. Giving his eyes something to do while his mind was occupied. He settled in to wait patiently for morning to come and his human to wake. 

**xXxXxXxXx**

“So, not so dead after all,” Lady Bevell sat quiet and calmly, not showing an ounce of fear. Far too sureen for someone who’d been chained to a chair in a hidden dungeon in a secret bunker for two days. She showed no weaknesses and gave away nothing... except that she’d obviously been trained in both sides of interrogation. Which both the hunters had already assumed would be the case.

“What can I say,” Dean grinned mockingly, arms wide as if to show off his very much ‘not dead’ status and goad her for believing Sam’s clever bluff, “it never seems to stick.”

“Now,” Dean continued, as he dragged a chair closer, straddled it backwards so he could rest his folded arms over the back of it, “we can do this the easy way where you tell me exactly why you broke into our home, shot my Brother and my... friend or the hard way where-”

“-Let me guess,” Toni interrupted, sounding thoroughly unimpressed and bored, “You’ll torture me.”

“Oh I’m not going to touch you. I’m not gonna lay a single finger on you...” Dean jerked his head over to the doorway, drawing her attention where Cas stood, partly covered by shadow and going completely unnoticed until Dean pointed him out. “...but he is,” 

“Is that supposed to scare me?” she scoffed dryly, rolling her eyes. “Please. Your pet Angel can’t do anything-”

Dean cut her off by tossing three bullets at her feet, the metallic clink echoed through the chamber and caused her smug grin to fall fast from her face. It had been worth playing the rouse to see the chills that ran down the woman’s spine as she stared down at them in disbelief. Her eyes shot up wearily to Castiel, who’s chin was lowered and his pupils lit up electric blue from his returned grace. His menacing glare, boring into her threateningly. A pissed off Angel staring down his attacker, fixed on revenge. 

Dean bit down on the inside of his cheeks to keep back the smile that wanted to tug his lips up into a grin when he saw the fear flash on their prisoner’s face. He didn’t blame her, he knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of Cas’ rage, he’d experienced it himself before and knew just how terrifying his Angel could be. Even after all these years, Dean still found it hard to believe how this dorky little guy, who didn’t get the reference, could turn on a dime to become this avenging Angel, hellbent on wrath and ready to smite anyone in his path without thought or remorse. Two polar opposites. Even knowing that this was just a mask right now, that Cas was just acting a role, playing a part, it still sent a shiver down his spine. 

Remembering his part in their performance, Dean allowed the grin to manifest, turning it into a mocking sneer which he slung at the bound woman. “You see Goldielocks, he's going to take a little stroll through that pea brained head of yours.”

Cas stepped silently towards her, his predatory eyes locked on his intended target with laser focus. 

“If you’re lucky, you won’t end up a mindless, gibbering vegetable.” Dean continued, watching Toni push herself further back in her chair, trying to create as much distance as she could between herself and Cas as he approached. “But then again you did shoot him, so he might not be in the mood to tread lightly.”

She twisted, trying to keep Cas in her sights as he stalked around behind her, panic catching her breaths and jumping with a startled gasp when his hands suddenly clamped down hard on her shoulders, holding her in place. 

“What do you need to know, Dean?” Cas asked, his gravelly voice forced deep enough to be felt in Dean’s chest as it reverberated off the concert walls of the dungeon. Damn, Cas was going full Jules to his Vincent. Dean was almost waiting for him to start quoting scripture, interlacing it with a few ‘mothafucka” for good measure. Cas’ voice had always done things to him, but hearing it like this was something else, it was raw power, unburdened and hot as hell.

Dean secretly swallowed down a tight lump in his throat and forced his mind out of the gutter and focused on what they were here to do. “Let’s start with what she wanted with Sam, and go from there.”

With a sharp nod Cas’ hands came up to bracket Toni's head in a vice like grip.

“I have a son!” she gasped out desperately, trying unsuccessfully to flinch out of the Angel’s strong grasp as much as her binds would allow. 

“That’s not going to stop him,” Dean warned, raising his voice to be heard over her panicked whimpers and watching her twist and turn pointlessly, struggling to free herself. 

“Alright! Alright!” Bevell shouted, “I’ll talk.”

Dean’s eyes flicked to Cas’ silently inquiring about the honesty of her claim. Cas nodded back to him and Dean stopped himself from beaming triumphantly. It was a smart move on her part, they would get whatever information they wanted out of her either way, so it was better for her to give it willingly than to have it painfully extracted out of her through Cas. 

“Alright, Cas. Let her go.” Dean ordered softly.

Cas did a good show of looking disappointed as he stepped back, coming to stand alongside Dean, his arms fisted by his side, all tense jawed and steely gazed, not dropping his ruthless Angel facade for one second. 

She glared daggers at the pair of them as Dean shoulders himself into her personal space, getting in her face. “So, Julie Andrews, let's start at the very beginning.”

**xXxXxXxXx**

Dean kept his expression neutral as he closed the door, sealing their prisoner inside and muting her angered shouts of protest. Once hidden from her view he turned to Cas and his face broke into a tilted prideful smile.

“Damn, Cas,” he exclaimed, flashing an impressed grin. “You were pretty badass in there.” 

He gave his Angel a congratulatory pat on the shoulder, letting the touch linger a little longer than he usually would allow himself too. Castiel’s shy half smile lit up his bright eyes. “So my ‘bad cop’ has improved?” 

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle at the air quotes. The mask was well and truly off now that they were out of that room, and Dean’s dorky Angel was back in full swing. “Well, that’s an understatement, but yeah dude, it’s improved.” He leaned into Cas, dropping his voice as if confessing a secret. “It was actually kinda hot.”

Color flushed Cas’ cheeks and seeing the blush Dean mentally upgraded Cas from his dorky Angel to his adorably dorky Angel. 

Draping his arm over Cas’ shoulders, Dean jostled the Angel into his side. “Come on tough guy, let's fill Sam in and then we’re going to get me a burger. I’m suddenly really in the mood for a royale with cheese.”

“What’s that?” Cas asked, letting Dean lead him away down the hallway towards the heart of the bunker. 

“It’s what they call a quarter-pounder in Paris.”

“We’re going to France?”

Dean’s full bellied laugh resonated through the whole bunker.

**xXxXxXxXx**

With his order placed, Dean slid into the booth opposite Cas, dropping down a coffee for each of them on the plastic tablecloth. The diner was already getting pretty busy for so early in the evening. They had been lucky to be able to be seated.

Cas had been silent the whole drive, which in Baby was fine, Dean could play his music and tap his fists along to the beat against the steering wheel or hum alone to distract himself and not acknowledge the almost intrusive stare he was getting from Cas in the passenger seat beside him, but here with nothing to do but wait the silence coming off the Angel was deafening and making Dean feel a little on edge.

It only took a few moments for Dean to crack. “Alright, Cas, either you’re trying to mind meld with me, or something’s buggin’ ya. So, what’s up?” 

Cas pushed aside his own coffee that he had no intention of drinking, laced his fingers together on the tabletop and let his inquisitive stare fall back on Dean, as he leaned forward in his seat. “Why did you refer to me as your friend?” 

“I...” Dean stammered floundering, as his mouth tried to find words to explain. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting Cas to say, but it certainly wasn’t to be quizzed on what title he introduced Cas as to their British prisoner. “Come on, Cas. I was hardly going to tell her about us. Rule number one of interrogation; don’t show a weakness. It gives the enemy something they can use against you.”

Cas pouted thoughtfully, considering Dean’s reasoning, eventually nodding along in agreement. Leaning back he slid his hands onto his lap beneath the table, seemingly relaxed and Dean couldn’t help but mimic him, happy that Cas had accepted his explanation and dropped the subject before it went any further.

“So what are we?” 

Dammit, did Cas really want to have  **the** talk now? Here? Seriously? He glanced around the crowded diner, expecting to see all eyes on them. Not that they were, everybody was too busy with their own food, or jobs to pay the two men any attention, but still this was too public for Dean’s liking. He had kept this side of him so hidden over the years, that it was second nature to him by now. There was no way he was ready to start an in depth discussion about their relationship in the middle of a crowded diner full of strangers. 

Dropping his voice to barley over a whisper, Dean turned the tables back onto the Angel. “What are we to you?” It wasn’t the total subject shift that he wanted, but it was the best his panicked mind could conjure in the time.

“Angels don’t have what you would consider romantic relationships,” Castiel replied, not showing any sign of the anxiety that was ripe in the hunter. “But the most accurate way to define us now would be mates.”

“Mates, huh?” Dean mused the word around, testing the feel of it. The Angels of course would choose a term that dehumanized the whole thing and make them sound like nothing more than co-workers, or at best a pair of penguins on Animal Planet. “What do you think your family will say with you getting together with - what was it they called me? A mud monkey?”

He’s seen first hand how they treated Cas, and knew all too well that they saddled Dean fully with the blame of what they saw as a corruption of one of their own. To them, Castiel had been weak and let Dean lead him astray. How much worse would it get for his Angel if the others knew they were ‘mates’? 

Castiel rolled his eyes to the ceiling, “A term they use only out of jealousy, Dean. You should pay it no attention,” he sighed out, sounding like he was just as insulted by the term his family had thrown at Dean often enough, despite what he was saying. 

“Come on, what’s there to be jealous of?” Dean scoffed. “You guys are immortal and all-powerful. You can literally kill with a touch. I’m only as powerful as the weapon I'm wielding.”

“Do you realize how redundant that sounds coming from you? Or have you forgotten the power you wielded, recently?”

Not wanting to concede Cas’ point, Dean looked away. 

Castiel sighed and carried on. “It’s not about power, Dean. It’s about you being our Father’s most precious, made in his image. He gave you everything, freewill, dreams, hope, love. Angels are nothing but pawns. We follow order and even if we are perfect soldiers, abide by every commandment, complete every mission,” Cas shook his head, dropping it slowly, “after billions of years of our faith and our service we became second in our Father's eyes to humans. It made most resentful.” 

Dean nodded in silent understanding. He knew precisely how it felt to strive to be the perfect son, only to feel less valued than the younger. It had been the story of his life up until a few years ago. Protect Sammy, that had been his mission, but no one had been there to protect him. It would have been so easy to take out his anger at the unfair situation that he had been forced into and snap at Sam, and a few times in his youth he had. But Cas had never turned against mankind, or on his Father. He had rebelled against Heaven only when forced to choose between his family and humanity. Dean specifically. It only reminded Dean of just how much Cas had already sacrificed for the man he hadn’t realized he loved at the time. 

“Well, for whatever the reason, your family,” Dean spat the word out like it left a sour taste on his tongue, “won’t like you shacking up with a human.”

“Screw them,” Cas replies, his voice soft but demanding. “Their opinion of you is of no import to me.” 

Castiel’s tone sounded very much like the end of conversation and Dean took the opportunity to let his eyes wander around the diner for something to hold his attention, because he doesn’t want to get trapped in his own head right now. He just needs a distraction from his thoughts. 

Across from them an older couple were leaning over their table so they both have a clear view of the phone the woman is holding. Her husband is concentrating on the screen with a frown, while she points to it and seems to be explaining something to him. Whatever it is the man is clearly not getting it. After a second or two the woman hands him the phone and she squeezes his other hand which is held in a frustrated fist on the tabletop. With a few pats he turns his hand, catching hers, giving it an appreciative squeeze as the couple trade affectionate smiles. 

Without realizing, Dean’s smile mirrors theirs as he took in the little window into their lives. Something about their body language told Dean that this was a familiar scene between them. Despite the husband's frustration and the wife's inability to help him understand, the couple were comfortable, putting each other completely at ease with a simple gesture of affection. 

As he looked down at their joined hands relaxed together on the tabletop a stab of self-hatred hit him. That was the level of support he should be able to give his Angel, instead he’s evading the one simple question Cas had asked him. 

Cas didn’t care what his own family thought about them, and here Dean was worried about being judged by a room full of strangers. 

His eyes flitted to Cas’ own hands, sitting abandoned on the tabletop. His fingers intertwined with no one else's but his own. 

Shit. Dean rubbed his hand harshly across the back of his neck. It would be the simplest thing in the world to reach across and take Cas’ hand in his just like the couple opposite. So easy and yet impossibly hard. 

John’s angrily disappointed face flitted across his mind  _ ‘I raised you to be a hunter, Dean. Not a cocksucker!’  _ before he shoved it out of his head. It was years ago, he was over it, he hadn’t thought about it in forever. 

“Dean?” 

He’s jarred back to the present, looking up to find Cas’ glancing over briefly to the couple Dean had just been staring at, before his penetrating blues met Dean’s in a worried look.

“What’s wrong?” 

The confusion that drew Cas’ brow in tight, makes Dean feel all the worse. Just the night before he had swore to himself that he wasn’t going to let his own doubts come between them anymore, and yet here he was less than twenty-four hours later too embarrassed to hold Cas’ hand in public and unable to answer one simple question that could bring the Angel some clarity at a time he clearly needed it.

“One bacon cheese, extra bacon and a vegan deluxe to go?”

“That’s ours,” Dean confirmed, jumping up to quickly take their food from the waitress with the perfect timing. 

He felt like a price jackass as he headed across the parking lot to the impala with Cas in tow. Feels worse when he blares his music to eliminate any chance of their conversation continuing on the way home. Cas’ patient silence is the cherry on top of his guilt ridden sundae. 

His Angel shouldn’t be suffering for his own fucked up issues. Cas deserved better, he deserved the truth. Failing that he at least deserved an explanation. He makes it only halfway back to the bunker before his self loathing is overtaken by his need to do right by Cas. 

“Fuck it!” He pulled Baby over to the side of the road before he could give himself the chance to chickenshit out. Leaving the car idle, he turns down the music so he can hear himself think and turns to Cas who’s watching him curiously from the passenger seat. 

“Dean?”

Dean’s throat bobs as he swallows nervously. He’d never told anyone what he was about to tell his Angel. Never had the desire to, but with Cas he realized that for once he was holding a full house. He doesn’t have to bluff or play safe, he can lay all his cards face up on the table and go all in. 

He took a deep breath. “I was sixteen when my Dad found out I liked guys. To say that he didn’t take it very well would be one hell of an understatement.” 

Castiel shifted in his seat, turning to give the hunter his full attention. “What happened?” 

Dean mouth shrugged, trying to make out like it was no big deal. “Smacked me around a bit, said some things.” He turned his head to stare out of the windshield, so he didn't have to see the look of pity on Cas’ face he knew without looking was there. “After, he left on a hunt and I got arrested. I thought that he would come and bail me out, like he always did... But he didn’t. He said that I could rot in jail and I got sent to a home for troubled boys.”

At the time, everyone who knew them had heard the official story. Dean had lost the money John had left for him and Sam in a card game, and then got busted stealing food for them to eat. That much had been true, but no one seemed to piece together that John Winchester’s cover story didn’t make sense. But Dean knew his Father better than anyone and Dean’s punishment did not fit the crime. John wouldn't have abandoned his eldest for simply losing a card game, no matter what the stakes. He had taught the boy how to hustle in the first place. That and credit card scams was how they survived. And hell, he might even have been proud that Dean had tried to right his mistake by taking the five fingered discount to feed his brother. Protect Sammy, that was the number one rule. As long as that was followed, everything else would be forgiven. So, with the bruises on his forearms a reminder of his Father's disappointment, the teen had gotten the message loud and clear. 

“Two months I was there for. I thought he’d washed his hands of me. It wasn’t ‘til he came for me that I realized he only left me there ‘til I learnt my lesson.” 

Dean wasn’t looking, but he still caught Cas’ confused frown out of the corner of his eye. 

“There was a girl, Cas,” Dean explained, hoping it would be explanation enough. “I don’t know how he knew, whether he was watching me or had someone reporting to him. I wouldn’t put either past him. But he knew and once he was satisfied that his son wasn’t a faggot anymore he came for me. If it wasn’t for Sammy I wouldn’t have left. He never said anything. We never spoke about it, ever... but I knew. I knew...”

“Dean, I’m so sorry. You were a child. You shouldn’t have-”

“-Don’t want sympathy, Cas.” Dean wiped his hand down his face, unsurprised when it came away damp. “The only reason why I’m telling you this is ‘cause afterwards I did everything I could to hide that side of me. I knew it wasn’t wrong, but...”

“You wanted to live up to your Fathers ideals and be the son he wanted you to be.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed with a watery inhale. “Dean ‘overly hetro to hide the fact that he’s so far in the closet he’s having tea with Mr Tumnus’ Winchester, became my mask. I’m not saying there weren’t some slip-ups along the way, but never...never openly, or soberly.” He let out a humorless laugh. “I’ve worn that mask for so long, Cas, that I don’t know how to take it off.”

Dean looked up, meeting his Angel’s gaze for the first time since they had left the diner. “... But I want to. Because you’re worth it to me.”

He watched the look in Cas’ eyes shift from sad concerned to touched wonder, lighting up with his words. Seeing the effect his open honesty had on his Angel spared Dean onwards. 

With the purr of Baby’s engine a calming buzz in his ear, Dean reached out and took Cas’ hand in his own. “So to answer your question, I don’t know what label to give us. Boyfriends? Lovers? Whatever you want, Cas. And if you wanna call us mates, I’m cool with that too.”

Castiel’s smile brightened. 

Giving his Angel the answers and support he needed in their solitude, with no one around to make judgments, assumptions or sneered whispers, was an empty victory, but Dean took it all the same. It made Cas smile and that was good enough for him.

“Well, I think I’ve done enough soul searching for one day.” Dean announced, reaching across awkwardly so he could slip the impala into drive without releasing Cas’ hand. “What’s say we get this tofu monstrosity that has no business being called a burger, back to Sam before it gets cold.” 

He pulled back onto the road, putting the diner, their evasive conversation and the ghosts of his past in his rear-view mirror. 

“Wordy name for such a simple meal.” 

Dean’s laughter dulled the heavy feeling in his chest. God he loved this Angel. 

“Never change, Cas. Never change.”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to take the time to thank those who've taken the time to comment or support in anyway. These last two chapters have been very trying and without that support keeping me focused and driving me onward I don't know if I would have gotten through them.


	5. Angels Don't Cry

**Chapter Five**

**Angels Don’t Cry**

  
  


“Dean!” 

Dean’s head jolted up from where it had been resting laxly on his fist, propped up on his elbow on the tabletop. He’d only closed his eyes for a second... Or two... He hadn’t nodded off while Sam was talking to him. He hadn’t. 

From across the table, Sam frowns at him in annoyance. “Sorry, am I boring you?” 

“I wasn’t asleep,” Dean protests, trying to discreetly wipe the little drool from the side of his chin, doing his best to hide the action behind a swig of his morning coffee. Which is cold. Okay, maybe he had closed his eyes for longer than a second. 

“Then what did I just say?” Sam challenges as he crosses his arms, not believing Dean’s claim for a second. He had been snoring for God’s sake. And Drooling. 

“You were talking about the thing with the thing.” Dean mumbles, circling his hand as if to wave the question away and move on.

Sam huffs. “I was saying that word from Garth is that the British have contacted more Hunters. Four in the last two days.”

Two weeks had passed since Lady Bevell had been collected by other members of the British Men of Letters, claiming that their higher up weren’t best pleased with her interpretation of their orders to convince the Winchester to work for them and give up names and locations of the other American hunters. 

The brothers had been glad to see the back of her. With the threat of an angelic mind purge hanging in the background she had given up any information they asked for, so there was no further use for her. And keeping a prisoner wasn’t fun. There was only so many times you can clean out a bucket before you start wishing they’d just escape. 

Since then Hunters from all over the country had reported being approached by members of the British Men of Letter. None of them had received the Winchesters style of greeting. Instead, they had been offered access to all the advanced weapons and research material the British had to offer, in exchange for the Hunters doing what they were told when they were told to do it.

The Brits had been told to stick it where the sun didn't shine. Most hunters preferred to work alone. Those rare ones that did play nice with others, certainly aren’t going to ask ‘How high?’ when told to jump.

“So that’s how many now?” Dean asked absently, staring into his coffee mug, trying to decide where it was worth drinking it cold just to get some caffeine in his system. He decided against it. “Twelve?” 

“Fifteen,” Sam corrects, “That we know of. So far looks like no one has taken them up on the offer. Mike still calling you too?”

“Everyday without fail.” Dean scoffs. He hasn’t answered a single call. Nor did he plan to. “I’ve heard of stalkers that were less persistent.”

“They’re really not taking the hint.” 

“How long do you think it’ll take before they give up and go home?”

Sam chuckles, “Guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

“Uh huh,” Dean agreed through a wide yawn.

Sam gave his brother a quick once over. For the most part Dean was usually alert shortly after waking. Probably one of the side effects of growing up in a protective role, feeling like he always had to sleep with one eye open. He had always been the last to fall asleep, the first to rise and always took the bed closest to the door. Even now, in the safety of the bunker Dean’s bedroom was the closest to the entrance. He claimed it was because it was closer to the kitchen, but Sam knew otherwise. It was rather annoying really. Occasionally Dean would let himself sleep in, but it wasn’t the norm. Dean being this sluggish usually it meant he was getting run down, or sick. “You okay?”

“Yeah, man,” Dean said, in a noncommittal way, rubbing his hooded eyes. 

“You sure?” Sam pushed further. “You seem a little out of it.” 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Dean replied reassuringly. Though he had been feeling lethargic recently. A side effect from housing and then being stripped of thousands of souls no doubt. Storing that much raw power, even for a short time, had to take a toll, right? Not that he was going to share his thoughts. There was no need to worry his brother when there was nothing anyone could do. It’ll fade, he’s sure of that. “Taking a bit longer to get going this morning is all.”

Another quick glance and Sam decided to let the subject drop, because Dean certainly didn’t look sick. In fact he looked... happy. The dude was practically glowing. Sam’s brief concern ebbed away, because a real sure sign of Dean getting sick was him losing his appetite and there had been none of that. Quite the opposite in fact. If anything his brother had been eating more than usual. Reassured that Dean was, for once as fine as he claimed to be, Sam couldn’t help but tease instead. 

“Cas kept you up all night?” Dean gave him the stink eye, but that only encouraged the younger Winchester to go that bit further. “Guess that's what you get when you have a boyfriend who doesn’t need to sleep.”

Boyfriend. Dean’s stomach somersaulted, unsure what caused the reaction more. That Sam had just used that term so casually, or the fact that Dean didn’t want to object to it. Helpless to stop his lips turn upwards, without even realizing they had. 

His coming out to his brother hadn’t been the big deal that he had feared it would be. In fact it had barely been made any kind of deal at all. Sam had just accepted that he and Cas were now an item. He should have known ‘like father, like son’ wouldn’t have applied when it came to the youngest Winchester. Sam had been completely accepting of Cas and him becoming a couple. No judgement had been made, other than how long it took the pair of them to actually do it. 

“You’re not wrong,” Dean agreed, flashing a teasing look of his own back at his brother through weary eyes. “I mean the dude has some serious stamina, I can’t even begin-”

“Alright! Alright!” Sam slammed his palms over his ears before his brother could overshare. He’d walked in on enough tender moments between the couple in the last two weeks. Luckily they had kept the heavy stuff for the privacy of what was now officially their bedroom, so Sam had escaped the worst of it, but he still didn’t need the mental image. “T.M.I dude!” 

Dean laughed heartily, waiting for Sam to lower his hands. “Speaking of,” he leaned over the table, closer to his brother, keeping his voice low. “You’ll have the bunker to yourself tonight. I’m taking Cas out.”

“Thank god for that,” Sam smiled, “You two have been so sickeningly sweet around here recently I was in danger of catching diabetes just watching you two.”

“You don't have to look, Sammy,” Dean replied casually, “But keep this to yourself, yeah? Cas doesn’t know yet and I want it to be a surprise.”

“Serious Dude, Die-a-beat-teas!” 

Dean smiled as he left. He was happy for once and he wasn’t going to apologize for it, hide it, or worry about it. 

The last two weeks had passed in a mass of pleasant days and pleasure filled evenings for Dean. Apart from a few salt and burns, there had been no hunts, no matter how much Sam searched. Seems the hoards of evil had taken to hiding as word spread that the Darkness had fled because of the Winchesters. So, aside from a handful of ghosts, who didn’t seem to have gotten the memo, all was quiet on the hunting front. And Dean was more than happy to devote the extra free time to his new mission in life. 

Cas.

Cas had been coming to Earth, helping the Winchesters, fighting alongside them for years and yet he had rarely sampled the finer things life had to offer. 

He’d bled more times than he’d smiled. 

Well, not anymore, Dean had firmly decided. He was determined to make that right and tip that scale to the more pleasant end. He would never deserve Cas even if he lived for another million years, but he could at least try, right? So, that’s what he was going to do. Try and right the wrongs and tonight he had a plan.

The Angel had never been on a date. Not a real one. Cas had tried to once before, when he was without his grace, so Dean knew it was something he had wanted before.

_ “Going on Dates. That’s what humans do, right?”  _

_ “Yeah, that’s something that humans do.” _

The date had never happened. Cas had misunderstood and ended up babysitting... which ended up with the former Angel nearly getting killed, Dean remembered. As far as first dates went, it definitely couldn’t be counted. On the plus side, it was another first experience that he could give his Angel. Take him on his first date. And he was going to do it properly.

**xXxXxXxXx**

A curious head tilt tracked Dean’s movements as the hunter made his way up to the balcony by the front door of the bunker. Silently asking where Dean was going and whether or not the Angel should follow.

“Wait there. Gimme a minute,” Dean called down over the railing, holding his hand up to holt Cas, causing the confused look to become all the more prominent. Dean lifted his index finger and his eyebrows, before turning away and leaving, the door slamming shut behind him.

Castiel waited, counting down the seconds in the requested minute, wondering what Dean could possibly hope to accomplish in such a small measurement of time. 

When he reached and then passed sixty seconds, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Considering if he should follow, or remain where he was. Dean had asked him to wait here for a minute, but not stated what to do when that minute ran out. Was it a hypothetical minute or a literal one? Should he follow Dean to ask him? But doing so would go against the ‘wait here’ part of the request.

Before he could decide what course of action to take there was a loud knock at the door. The rhythm of the rapping against the metal a pattern Cas recognized as the one Dean used often. 

Cas rolled his eyes, “You forgot your key,” he chastised as he climbed the steps to let the hunter back in.

He yanked open the heavy metal door.

Dean stood casually leaning against the doorframe, a confident smile digging into his cheeks, as his eyes flashed up to meet the Angel’s confused ones. Pulling his arm from behind his back he revealed a single flower, holding it aloft in offering to his Angel.

Cas took the flower by the stem, turning his eyes back to Dean silently asking a question yet again. 

“Cas, will you let me take you out on your first date?”

Castiel’s smile reached all the way up to his eyes, he twisted the stem rolling it round in his fingers, looking truly touched by the sentiment and not knowing what to say. 

“Come on, man, don’t leave me hangin’,” he teased, dipping his head to try and catch his Angel’s eye. “Is that a yes?”

Cas was positively beaming when he lifted his head. “Yes, Dean.”

“Awesome.” Dean beamed right back, before dashed to where Baby was waiting and threw open the passenger door, holding it wide and gesturing for Cas to get inside. “Dinner and a movie? Dating Dean Winchester style.”

“What makes it your style?” Cas asked, as he slid into the impala. 

“After the movie we go get pie,” Dean smiled. He slammed the door and hurried round to the drivers side, trying to keep himself from skipping in his excitement. 

**xXxXxXxXx**

“And what can I get for you, Handsome?” the waitress purred out at Cas with a flirtatious smile. 

“Urm,” Castiel pondered over the menu, quickly choosing something at random. It didn’t make any difference to the Angel what he ordered, he wasn’t going to eat it anyway, it was only for appearances, but he hoped what he had chosen would be something Dean could maybe enjoy. 

The restaurant Dean has chosen for Castiel’s first ever date is bright and busy, bursting with life and color. The walls are adorned with memorabilia, staying just shy of looking cluttered. Instead giving it a warm and inviting feel. The wait staff hurried about wearing vibrant uniforms and friendly smiles to the sounds of old rock buzzing in the background. 

Dean had contemplated taking Cas to somewhere fancy for his first date. Somewhere with waiters in black tie, where you had to book in advance and had more silverware on the table than he would know what to do with. But that just wasn’t his style. Dean was Roadhouse not winebar material and he knew, right down in his gut, that Cas wouldn’t want him out of his comfort zone. His Angel would want the real human experience, without all the airs and graces, and to Cas humanity meant Dean Winchester. 

“You got it,” the waitress said, collecting their menus. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.” With another smile for Cas, this one joined by a wink, she left.

Dean watched her sashay away, clearly putting an extra sway in her hips with every step. “She likes you,” he whispered to Cas, who was clearly clueless to the whole exchange. 

Cas’ head tilted as the Angel frowned in confusion. “Why?”

Castiel's baffled expression made the corner of Dean’s mouth twitch up in amusement. “Why?” he droned out, as if the answer was so obvious that the question was redundant. “Have you looked in a mirror recently? Because you’re hot.”

Castiel’s brow drew in further, as if Dean’s insight was too far fetched for the Angel to believe. Hesitantly he glanced over his shoulder to the bar where their waitress was now fixing their drinks. She looked up, catching his eye. 

The flirtation she threw the Angel’s way barely had a chance to hit its target before Cas’ head snapped back, staring fixed ahead of him, looking like he would be sweating bullets if he were able. Dean chuckled silently. His fierce warrior of heaven freaking out over being flirted with by a pretty face. It was like Superman’s kryptonite... or Sammy’s clowns. 

Castiel’s wide eyes darted about, like he was trying to observe everything in the restaurant that wasn’t their waitress, who was making her way back over to them, tray of drinks in hand. 

Dave gave her a nod of thanks as she set down his beer, but his eyes narrowed when she lingered over Cas’. 

“It makes me uncomfortable,” Castiel admitted grumpily. Answering Dean’s unasked question as soon as they were alone. 

“Do I need to do something?” Dean offered, a smirk crawling playfully onto his lips. “Tell her to back off my man and defend your honor?”

The nervousness in Castiel’s eyes vanished as he glared back at the teasing hunter. “I don’t think that’s necessary,” he snipped, squinting in annoyance. 

Dean took a long deep breath, to calm the rising nerves that were suddenly twisting in his stomach like a bucket of excited snakes.  _ ‘Okay this is your chance, so man up and don't blow it!'  _ Steeling himself, he leaned across the table, trying to seem more calm and collected than he actually felt. 

“Well, how about something a bit more subtle?” Dean reached towards where Cas had his hands tightly clasped together and prising them apart he gently took one in his own.

Feeling like everyone in the restaurant suddenly had their eyes on them, Dean waited on baited breath, his gaze locked on their joined hands, hearing his own pulse loud in his ear. Tentatively he brushed his thumb over Cas’ knuckles, taking one more baby step into the testing of the waters. Waiting for some douchebag to make a comment or toss a crude insult their way. 

But none came.

Glancing up he found Cas was looking at him with soft appreciative eyes. All the Angel’s annoyance and nervousness seemingly had vanished with one small simple gesture. Dean felt some of his apprehension slip away as he stared back at his Angel. He’d done it. The one thing he wanted to do on Cas’ first ever date was give him Dean Winchester's first ever public display of affection towards a dude. It may only be a hand hold, and technically speaking Cas wasn’t a ‘dude’ as much as an Angel inside a beautiful male casing, but for Dean it was a win and he returned Cas’ warming smile with a shy pride-filled one of his own. 

Castiel felt like his insides were going to combust with admiration for the hunter sat across from him. Dean would no doubt downplay it, but the Angel knew just how difficult what he had done would have been for him. 

The last two weeks of being with Dean had taught Castiel something that the Angel hadn’t suspected. Dean was affectionate. Very affectionate. Dean seemed to practically crave touch, as if he had been starved of it. Whenever they were alone Castiel would find himself being hugged, or caressed, or kissed for no apparent reason. Not that he was complaining, Dean’s embrace had quickly become addictive to the Angel also, and he relished each chance he got to show physical affection towards the hunter he longed for just as fiercely.

Yet the hunter would awkwardly shy away, denying himself, whenever in the presence of anyone else, looking uncomfortable in his own skin, but Castiel felt it every time Dean brushed himself against him in a seemingly unintentional way. It saddened the Angel to know that Dean was robbing himself what he truly wanted because he was raised to believe that it was a sign of weakness or would make him less of a man in the eyes of his long dead Father. If the Angel ever made it back up to heaven he may just seek out the soul and enlighten him of the damage his dogmatic intolerance had caused in his loving son. 

But for now Castiel was content to see the change in his hunter and beam in awe. His charge, so brave, so stubbornly strong headed, so human. And so admired by the Angel.

**xXxXxXxXx**

Dean stared up at the movies available, trying to decide what Cas might like. He was drawn to the new released action flick that was showing, with Samaul Jackson and that Deadpool guy, that looked engaging and with humor, but he knew Cas would ask a million questions throughout, so he decided against it and went to check out what ‘oldies’ they were playing instead. At least that way he had a chance of answering the Angel’s inevitable queries. 

There were much more limited choices with the re-showings, only two classics. Both good options, both among some of Dean’s favorites. The first option however, Back To The Future, Dean quickly dismissed. While it would be nice to have Cas finally understand that reference, there were too many similarities that Cas could mention - hell they had practically lived through that movie - and if the Angel started pointing them out in a packed movie theater it might turn a few heads.

So that left him with only the second option, a Terminator double bill. The first had already finished, but they were in time to catch Judgement Day. 

If the woman who served him thought anything of him ordering a popcorn and soda large enough to share and seats on the back row she didn't comment on it. 

“Okay, so this movie we’re going to see is a sequel, so I’m gonna give you a rundown of what happens in the first one so you can follow it,” Dean said, leading the way over to their screen, juggling his purchases into one hand to show the tickets. 

“I thought you said that sequel’s were just poorly written cash grabs,” Cas replied, taking the ridiculously sized beverage from Dean so he wasn't struggling.

“Usually that’s true,” Dean replied, “But T2 is the exception. It blows the first out of the water.”

“And that’s a good thing?” Cas questioned, ducking into the door that Dean held open for him.

“Yeah. So anyway, Schwarzenegger is this kick-ass killer robot called the Terminator. He gets sent back in time to kill this woman, Sarah Connor, before she can have her son, John, who’s due to grow up to become the leader of the human side in the war against the machines. With me so far?” Dean let Cas sit first so the hunter could take the aisle seat. 

“Yes, Dean.” 

In the darkened movie theatre Dean couldn’t see the eyeroll, but he didn’t need to, he heard it clear as day in the Angel’s tone. “Okay, good. So the Terminator comes back, but the humans also send a guy back to protect Sarah. Anyway they end up getting it on, then the guy gets killed, but Sarah kills the robot. Turns out the guy is John’s Father and he had to be the one sent back so that John could be born in the first place. And that’s basically Terminator in a nutshell. Any questions?”

“Some,”

“Okay, shoot.”

“What’s a Schwarzenegger?”

Not wanting to confuse his Angel, Dean bit back his response of ‘Governor of California’ opting instead to simply tell him, “He’s the dude who plays the Terminator.”

Cas gave a small half nod of understanding. “And why is he in a nutshell?” 

**xXxXxXxXx**

Choosing the back row had definitely been a wise choice. Not only did it mean that Dean was comfortable risking some more public displays of affection during the trailers, but it also meant that nobody except Cas noticed when he nodded off halfway through the movie. 

He woke to a complaining bladder as a melted T-1000 was reforming on the screen. Cursing the bucket sized soda the theatre served, that he had been the only one drinking, Dean pecked his Angel on the cheek before excusing himself. Returning a few minutes later to find Cas hadn’t moved a muscle, completely glued to the movie. 

“Safe to say you’re enjoying it,” Dean whispered with a smirk, as he slid back into his seat.

“I am,” Cas confirmed, as Dean got himself comfortable. “I’m finding the android very compelling. How being around humans showed him the value of life. I can relate.”

Dean paused, a frown encroaching on his perplexed face. He leaned in. “Are you saying you identified with the terminator?” 

Cas shrugged in a non-committal kind of way. “We were both made to follow orders sent to protect our charge, and through them leant how to be more human.”

On screen the Terminator looked down at the weeping John Connor. “I know now why you cry.” he said tonelessly. Reaching out to drag a metal fingertip down the teenagers cheek, following the path a tear had taken. “But it is something I can never do.”

Cas leant forward in his seat, pulled in towards the screen he was fixated on, giving the movie his wrapped attention, his brow low in concentration.

Dean was starting to think that maybe Back to the Future would have been the safer choice of the two movies after all. Sure, he may have had to throw off some awkward looks from the other people in the theater if Cas had pointed out the similarities to their own experiences to the ones playing out on screen, but having Cas identifying to the Terminator of all characters Dean had never considered. He had never thought about the movie as anything more than an awesome action flick. So the idea that Cas would see a far deeper meaning to it Dean found endearing as much as it troubled him.

Dean twisted in his seat so he could tuck his shoulder in behind Cas and wrapped his arm around his Angel’s waist. Leaning in he dropped a kiss on the Angel’s jaw, close enough to his ear so he could whisper and wouldn’t be overheard. “He’s not you Cas.”

”I’ve never cried, Dean.” Cas whispered back sadly.

The almost jealous sounding tone to Cas’ words felt like a punch to the throat, leaving Dean’s mouth dry. He swallowed hard, to find his voice. “Just because you haven’t doesn’t mean you can’t. You’re not a machine, Cas.” 

“Hmm,” Castiel hummed in dismissive agreement. 

As Sarah Connor’s departing words faded and the closing theme began, the house lights came up and everyone around the couple started collecting their things and quickly leaving to avoid the rush. 

Dean is content to wait until they’re alone, before getting out of his seat and offering his hand to his Angel. 

The foyer is quiet, only a few groups waiting for a late night showing, as they cross to the exit hand in hand. A few glancing their way and one young woman gives them an approving look, which Dean translates in his head to mean she thinks the couple look good together. He couldn't agree more. 

He proudly clutches Cas’ hand tighter. 

The evening air has a bite to it, but the diner which stays open late and serves a really good pie is only a block away. So, fingers still entwined, Dean decided to take the moonlit stroll with his lover that until recently he had firmly believed would never be possible. Not as a hunter, and certainly not as a Winchester. It’s another first for Cas and a gift the Angel has bestowed on the human, without knowing he had, or having any clue to its importance to the man. 

Dean slips his free hand into his pocket, protecting it against the night chill that is nipping at his cheeks and ears, while his other is warm in Cas’ light grip. In no rush, he keeps his strides short and almost lazy. Enjoying the moment, the peace that only comes when most of the world are tucked up in their homes and the closeness of the Angel amberling along beside him, their shoulders brushing on nearly every step. 

“This is pleasant,” Cas' voice broke the silence just a few short minutes later.

Dean peeks at him, pausing for a second to admire the sparkle of his Angel’s eyes that were shining with delight, making the stars above them seem dull and lifeless in comparison. “Yeah, it is.” 

“I always considered walking to be an inefficient way to travel.”

Dean chuckled deep in his throat. “Coming from the guy that used to teleport everywhere that’s not surprising.”

“But this, walking, with you,” Castiel glanced over, seeing the same emotion reflected back at him from Dean. “It makes me happy.”

“Do you miss flying?” It’s out of Dean’s mouth before he even thought about it and he internally kicks himself. Dammit, his brain was either love-drunk, or stuck on dumbass mode. Because of course Cas would miss it, it was stupid to ask. Flying was the natural thing for the Angel. He might as well have asked an amputee if he missed a limb. Dean’s eyes flick to Cas in time to see his face fall slightly. 

“Sometimes,” Cas replied, the forlong look disappearing quicker than it had appeared, making Dean wonder if he’d actually seen it in the first or if it had just been his imagination. 

“Will your wings ever heal?” This time Dean knows he saw a look as Cas double-takes. 

Castiel keeps his eyes forwards as he talks, not wanting to see the pity he knew would be on Dean’s face. He didn’t deserve any sympathy, he had caused the fall. His brothers and sisters would never fly again because of the Seraph’s misguided trust in the wrong person. “I didn’t have my grace during the fall.”

Dean nodded, he already knew that. Cas’ grace had been one of the ingredients in Metatron’s spell that cast all the Angels from Heaven. 

“Our wings are a direct manifestation of our grace. With what little remained of mine stored away it was safe, in a manner of speaking, when I was cast out. 

“How were they so damaged then?” Dean asked. He'd seen the Angels fall, with their wings burning up into nothing as they hit the Earth. If Cas hadn’t fallen the same way then his wings shouldn’t be the tattered mess Dean knew them to be. 

Cas was frowning at Dean like he’s a complex puzzle the Angel is trying to solve and Dean’s heart suddenly skips a beat as he realizes his slip up. Castiel had been alone when he had retaken his grace and gotten his wings back. He’d never told anyone how torn up and frail they were. Dean only knew because he had seen them in his uninvited trip into Cas’ memories. Something he had sworn he would never talk about.

The look Cas is giving him sure looks like he’s trying to work out how Dean knew about the damage, but after a beat he regroups. Either letting it slide or not wanting to delve into it, Dean isn’t sure which and both would make sense to the hunter. He was an expert on pushing down the bad memories until they don’t affect you. Or at least he thought he was, compared to what he’d seen in Castiel’s head the Angel trumped him in every way. 

“The damage my wings sustained was due to nearly all of my grace being used for the spell. The fragment that remained was not strong enough to restore my wings wholly...But when it’s restored my wings should return to their former state.”

“So you will fly again?” Dean asked, a tiny hopefully smile bleeding up onto his lips. Although he hated to fly, in any form, that’s why he drove everywhere...well, that and he fucking loved being behind the wheel of his beloved Impala. But as much as Dean never wanted to have Cas pop him anywhere ever again, knowing that the Angel may be able to filled him with a kind of nostalgia. 

“Yes,” Cas replied, but a darkness clouded his eyes. “But my brothers and sisters will not.”

Dean rubbed his thumb over Cas’ knuckles, as if the subtle movement could wipe off the look of guilt that sprung up on the Angel’s face. It wasn’t Cas’ fault. He knew that and deep down Cas knew that too. Cas had been misled. He was as much of a victim in the fall as the rest of them. Not that those dicks Cas calls family had seen it that way. They wanted retribution and apparently leaving him human, penniless and alone with only the trench-coat on his back wasn’t penance enough. The Angel had made amends for his mistake. He’d literally been killed for it . As far as Dean was concerned Cas’ dues had been paid, overpaid in fact. 

“How long will it take,” Dean asked. It had been years since the fall already and the hunter hadn’t noticed a change in the strength of the Angel’s powers. “‘til you’re firing on all cylinders again?”

“Many more years I suspect. Maybe centuries.” 

Dean gave Cas the side-eye. The Angel didn’t seem to be upset, or worried in any way. So Dean decided to follow his lead, after all there was nothing to gain dwelling on what wouldn’t change, not in his lifetime anyway. 

“So,” Dean said, challengingly, “if you had them back, right here, right now, where would you take me?” He josselled his Angel’s shoulder playfully. 

“Right now?” Castiel smiled, as if the answer was the simplest thing in the world. “Nowhere. I’m enjoying our walk.”

Dean tugged on Cas’ hand, pulling the Angel closer to plant a quick kiss on his temple and on a spear of the moment decision took a detour from their original path. It was not a direct route, but pie and part three of the date could wait a little longer if this was making his Angel happy. 

**xXxXxXxXx**

The filling is unsettling. It’s too viscous a texture to find pleasing and the overly sweetened fruit is laced with preserving chemicals, which serves to add yet another contrast to the already overabundant multitude of tastes assaulting his tongue. Thoroughly too much for an Angel who can taste each and every molecule.

But Castiel is enjoying the pie nonetheless, because watching Dean revel in every bite is a sight to behold. 

The gratification the hunter takes from such a mundane task as fueling his body with subsistence is something Castiel has always found wondrous, but with pie it is truly something else, something nearly breathtaking. The way Dean’s lips curl around the mouthful, his jaw works to chew and his throat bobs as he swallows, all with a smile of pure innocent joy. And the noises!... Castiel has to reel himself in, because the sounds Dean is making, the deep moaning of pleasure, is causing a physical reaction in his vessel. Especially when a droplet of red syrup escapes and the Angel barely stops himself from leaning over to lick the substance from Dean’s lips himself.

Castiel is so fascinated that he doubts he would have known Dean had spoken had he not been staring at the hunters mouth so intently.

“So, this whole identifying with the Terminator thing, what’s that all about?” Dean asked through an overloaded mouthful, a few crumbs escaping along with his words. 

They were sat on the hood of the Impala, the cooling and fast disappearing pie between them. Dean had driven them to what he had called a ‘make out spot’, whatever that meant. The Angel hadn’t questioned it. Regardless of what it was called the location was beautiful. Open landscape scattered in wild flowers for miles around them and far enough away from any major roads and cities that the sky was clear of any pollutants, making the stars above them appear that much brighter. Not that the Angel was paying much attention to the scenery. 

Castiel tore his eyes off those lickable plush lips long enough to listen to what Dean was saying.

“‘Cause the fact that you’re empathizing with him only proves how different you are. You’re actually feeling, Cas. He just mimicked people.”

Castiel chuckled. “As did I, Dean. At least in the beginning.” Since his revelation in the movie theatre Dean had been adamant on proving that the Angel and Terminator were nothing alike. So much so that he was misunderstanding that Castiel was actually finding the notion of sharing similarities with the fictional cyborg somewhat comforting. 

When he had first started feeling he had believed that he couldn’t share his burden with others. His brethren would have viewed him as an anomaly in need of fixing and the humans that had become his friends could never understand.

However this man-made movie had proved to him that he had been mistaken. Humans may not have been able to understand, but if they could invent a character with similar attributes then they should be able to at least sympathize. It was heartwarming for Castiel to know that back then he could have gone to Dean, even if he hadn’t believed it at the time. 

Dean gave him a look like he wasn’t comprehending what Castiel was saying, so the Angel explained further. “I studied you, how you reacted to the situation and copied them.”

“Wait wait,” Dean said, pausing to swallow this time without immediately replacing his mouthful. “I am  _ so  _ not the one you should use as an example. I’m so messed up my issues have issues.” He started counting them off on his fingers. “I got trust issues, abandonment issues... Hell, I even got Daddy issues that should have seen me on the pole. I’m a psychiatrist wet dream.”

“You were perfect, Dean.” Castiel replied sincerely. “You feel so deeply. It made trying to decipher everything so much clearer. There would have been no one better to guide me.”

“Glad I could help,” Dean replied dismissively, a touch of a blush showing up even in the darkness of the night. “Hold up. Is that why you always stare at me like that?”

“Not just that, no. There’s so many things you do that I find... mesmerizing.”

“Oh yeah,” Dean quizzed, his interest peeking. He leaned closer. “Like what?”

Cas gave him a meaningful side glance, heat flashing in his eyes. “Well the way you were eating that pie for one.”

Dean’s grin creeped up mischievously. “What? This pie?” he asked, feigning innocence. Taking up another piece, he placed it carefully on his tongue, making sure to hollow his cheeks as he sucked off the syrup that clung to his finger. Groaning loudly, he let his eyes drop closed. 

Cas was transfixed and no sooner did Dean swallow before his mouth was occupied by something else just as tasty. 

Well, it wouldn’t be dating Dean Winchester style without a little make out session on Baby’s back seat... Okay, they hadn’t made it to the back seat, but close enough. He melted into the kiss. 

  
  


**xXxXxXxXx**

Dean started Baby’s engine purring, heading home, back to the bunker. 

Everything had gone better than he had hoped. Apart from one small thing. He had pictured the date ending with them ravishing each other like a pair of horny teenagers, but it would appear luck as usual was not on his side. Seemed more than likely that the only one Dean was going to be embracing in the foreseeable future was the porcelain throne. 

He tried to ignore the growing uneasy feeling in his stomach that hadn’t started that long ago, but was stubbornly staying put, causing his mouth to water near constantly. But he wasn’t about to let a little nausea ruin things for Cas.

He could hold it back for the short journey home, so not to taint their first date, Cas’ first ever date. So he tried not to think about the swaying, rocking motion of the car, or what he could have eaten (The burger that may have been a little pink, possibly. The popcorn, the soda with a little too much syrup, a little too flat,  **_way_ ** too much pie), that could have disagreed with him, but the more he tried to  _ not  _ think of those things, the more he thought about all those things.

Until he had to pull over, quickly. Sending a sandy cloud out behind the Impala as she swerved off the road into the dirt, breaking hard. 

Dean was out like a shot, before he could make a mess and ruin the leather seats, ignoring Cas’ puzzled call of his name. It was too risky to speak right now. Slamming the door behind him and plonking himself heavily to the ground, using Baby as a shield. Cas didn’t need to see him spew his guts up, not if Dean could help it.

“Dean! Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” Dean barely had time to roll his eyes, before there was a strong grip on his shoulder.

Dean grumbled and spat, trying to get rid of the acid taste that was lingering and grudgingly allowing himself to be eased back upright, wiping his mouth on his sleeve quickly to hide the evidence, wishing Cas had stayed in the car and hadn’t seen any of that. “Not gonna come running to you every time I get the stomach flu, Cas.”

“It’s pointless to suffer unnecessarily.” Without anymore being said, before Dean could object, a large loving hand was on his forehead and he dropped his head back to rest on the Impala’s door, accepting the help, albeit grudgingly. 

He felt the familiar warm tingling of Cas’ healing ability wash over him, though it ended abruptly, far too soon when Cas’ jerked his hand away suddenly as if burned.

Cas seemed startled, but Dean couldn’t fully focus on him right now, he was too busy trying to keep whatever little was left in his stomach down, holding deep breaths, trying to swallow down the churning nausea, that’s making him a little dizzy and slightly blurring his vision. 

“We need to get you back!” Cas said panickedly. He was warily glancing all over, as if searching for some unseen threat, as he hooked his hand under Dean’s armpit, practically forcing the hunter up to his feet and into the car. 

Though part of him wanted to protest, Dean didn’t say anything when Cas slid him across into the passenger seat, taking Dean’s usual place behind the wheel himself. He hated anyone else handling his baby, but right now, with the wave of nausea washing through him, making him lightheaded, Baby was probably safer in the Angel’s hands. Even if Cas was acting super spooked right now.

Dean had known Cas to go over protective on him before, but this was ridiculous. It was only a bit of food poisoning, or a bug. Living most of his life on the road, surviving on truck stops and greasy dinner food, Dean had had plenty in his time. Twenty four hours at the most and he’d be back to his usual self. There was really no need for Cas’ panic. 

Was weird that he hadn’t healed him though.

“Your healing mojo must be off,” Dean grumbled as soon as it felt it was safe enough to open his mouth. “I still feel like crap,”

“You’re not sick, Dean.” Cas told him, his eyes never leaving the road. He was sitting a little forward in the seat, stiffly. His whole body tensed, on edge.

“Oh yeah?” Dean cocked a cheeky eyebrow at him, “The chunks I just blew all over the side of the road back there would prove otherwise.”

“You’re not sick,” Cas repeated, deathly serious, eyes glued ahead, refusing to glance Dean’s way. “...You’re pregnant.”

There was a long second of disbelieved silence, where Cas’ words hung heavy as lead in the air between them, before Dean laughed loudly, a dry cackle, a tad too forced, until the sickness threatening to make a reappearance forced him to stop. 

He swallowed, breathed, calmed his stomach. “Cas, I don’t know how many sex ed classes you played hooky from in Angel school, but two guys can’t make a baby.”

“Two human males can’t, but for an Angel and a human... it’s entirely possible.” Cas’ tone was edged with tension and guilt, he dropped his head fractionally, turning more away from Dean.

“Pretty sure one of them would still need to be female,” Dean replied, turning to face out of the window, as if that would put an end to this crazy motion that Castiel seemed to be stuck on.

Cas sighed, his sight still locked on the road ahead, unable to meet the hunters eyes. “Nephilims are conceived when an Angel’s grace impregnates a human soul...and souls are genderless, Dean.”

“Well, my soul may be, but I am not!” Dean retorted hotly, his patience with Cas fast waning. “I’m a dude and dudes can’t get pregnant!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting to the good bit now guys :D  
> I'd love to hear people's thoughts so far


	6. Knockout

**Chapter Six**

**Knockout**

“This isn’t necessary, Dean,” Cas tried again, sounding completely aspirated and aggravated as he tailed Dean round the store far too closely, practically tripping over Dean’s feet as the hunter stroad through the aisles, searching and mostly ignoring his acquired angelic shadow. “I have already seen it.”

_ ‘Then your eyesight is as off as your healing mojo,’ _ Dean didn’t bother to voice his thoughts. He didn’t even want to look at Castiel right now, much less talk to him. 

“We’re wasting time,” Cas kept up his one-sided conversation, his tone growing more desperate, as Dean scanned the shelves. “We need to get you back to the bunker as soon as possible. You’re warded, but I have no idea how much of that applies to the Nephilim.”

There was that word that he didn’t want to hear again. Nephilim. Angel, human hybrid, that Cas was claiming was now growing inside of him. It was ridiculous. Men can’t get pregnant, regardless of what Castiel thought, and he’s going to prove it. Finding what he’s looking for Dean snatches it up and marches over to pay. 

He slammed the test down on the counter and drummed his fingers impatiently. The cashier gave him an odd look, single eyebrow raised, that made Dean want to snap  _ ‘What? You never saw a guy buy a pregnancy test to prove to an Angel that he’s not knocked him up before?’ _

After a beat the cashier seemed to have snapped out of it and quickly rang up the sale, albeit a bit awkwardly. He must have either assumed that Dean was buying for a wife or girlfriend and had just brought a buddy with for... moral support or whatever (Castiel’s extreme closeness was not helping matters though. The Angel was practically glued to Dean’s back), either that or he thought he was being pranked. Judging by the way he was looking around, possibly searching for hidden cameras, Dean was assuming the latter it was most likely.

“You got a bathroom here?” he asked, pocketing his change.

The cashier sniggered awkwardly, the side glances increasing. Dean stared at him, unblinking, giving his best ‘I’m not amused’ glare, maintaining eye contact until the giggles died abruptly and the guy’s face dropped. He nervously pointed out where the bathroom was. 

“Can we do this back at the bunker?” Cas practically whined as he followed less than half a step behind as Dean made his way over to the small bathroom. 

Again, Dean ignored him as he stormed inside, twisting and slamming the door in Castiel’s face, before the Angel’s encroachment into Dean’s personal space could give him the opportunity to follow him inside. 

Slamming the lid of the toilet seat down, Dean sat down heavily with a frustrated sigh. He forcefully ripped open the box and yanked out the paper instructions. 

The first thing he read - ‘ **_For the most accurate results, wait to take a pregnancy test until the week after your missed period._ ** ’ - did little to lift his mood. 

It seemed simple enough. Unwrap, pee on the right end, leave it flat, wait five minutes, get the results. 

And then he could go there and rub it in the stupid Angel’s face. Seriously, what was Cas thinking? Pregnant. It would be laughable, if Cas’ stubborn insistence didn’t make it so infuriating. 

Trying to mentally will himself to pee proved to be the hardest part about taking the test. Not only did he not need to go, but holding the test in one hand and his dick (literal proof that he was a man!) in his other just looked fucking absurd and made his bladder go shy. Or maybe it just didn’t want to be part of this insanity.

It takes forever and a lot of visualizing waterfalls while running the tap, but eventually he manages a meager stream. It’s only a small amount, but it’s all he’s got, so he hopes it’ll be enough. He watches closely as it absorbs up to the little window, the strip darkening slightly until a little line appears signalling that it’s ready, there’s enough pee there to get a reading. 

Dean replaces the cap and sets the test down on the side of the sink, careful to touch as little of it as possible and making sure it’s horizontal which is apparently important, according to the instructions. 

He sets a timer on his watch for five minutes, double checking and then rearranges himself back in his pants, all while trying not to glance over to the test that is laying there, beckoning. He starts to wash his hands, scrubbing them forcefully, harder than necessary. The water is too hot, he’s using too much soap, but it’s a much needed distraction. So he doesn't cool down the water, doesn’t stop scrubbing until his hands are red and he can't get them any cleaner. Still his eyes want to flit over to the test, so he forces them up to the mirror instead.

He doesn't look good. His skin is a little too pale and clammy, but he has just thrown up, he reminds himself, so he doesn’t worry. It’s just a little food poisoning, or a stomach bug he’s picked up. It can’t be anything serious because the nausea has now subsided. Still it is strange that Cas hadn’t been able to heal him. The Angel has never had trouble with anything minor before. He doesn’t want to think about that though. Instead he cups up a mouthful of water, rising it around his mouth and spitting it back down the sink. Splashing some over his face, he slams his hand down on top of the tap to turn off the flow.

Spinning away from the sink, so not to catch an accidental glimpse, he paces across the small confines of the little bathroom, resting his forehead on the far wall, as far from the sink and the test as possible. He closes his eyes.

What if he was?

He pushed the thought away as soon as it pops up in his mind, because it wasn’t possible, it just wasn’t. Men can’t get pregnant. 

This whole thing was so pointless and unnecessary. Why in the world was he standing in a cramped service station bathroom waiting for results of a test that’s impossible to have any result other than negative. That damn Angel is making him crazy. Part of him wants to give up on the whole thing, throw the stupid test in the garbage where it belongs and just walk out, but he knows how stubborn Cas can be. So stubborn Dean even wonders if this test will be enough to convince the Angel. What if even after it’s done, with the proof in front of them Cas still refused to believe the outcome, still maintains his ridiculous notion that they could conceive, what then? Wait nine months for a baby  **_not_ ** to come for Cas to see reason. Maybe he should have brought more than one test, maybe Cas will argue that the results can be wrong with just one. Still it’s too late for that now. He’d cross that bridge when he got there. 

He wonders how long he’s waited for now. The minutes seem to be ticking by at a ludicrously slow pace, but he doesn't want to check, doesn’t want to look at anything, not his watch, not the test - definitely not the test. Even though he knows the only possible result is negative, he still doesn't want to look. As if seeing it early could affect the outcome, which was obviously ridiculous, nothing could affect it, there was only one possible result.

He wiped his palms down his thighs, trying to get rid of the sweat that's making his hands feel damp. Why was he so nervous? He shouldn’t be nervous. Guys can’t get pregnant. This was just to shut Cas up, that’s all. That’s the only reason he’s in this dingy bathroom, hovering over the test while at the same time refusing to look at it. 

His watch beeped. 

Reminding himself for what felt like the billionth time in the last five minutes that men can’t have babies, he takes a deep calming breath, rolling his tense shoulders and picks up the test.

He stared at the results window, his brow growing increasingly furrowed in disbelief. He rubbed his eyes and refocused on the little display. 

It hadn’t changed. 

He snatched up the instructions. His eyes scanning over the text, searching for something he’d mis-read, or skipped, or done wrong. 

He couldn’t find anything. 

He checked again, more thoroughly, silently mouthing along as he read. As he reached the end for the third time he held up the test for comparison to the two examples pictured, his eyes flitting back and forth unable to trust what he was seeing.

He hadn’t done anything wrong. He hadn’t mis-read, hadn’t missed a step or done them out of sequence. He’d done everything as instructed, to the letter. He had his results. 

Positive.

...Shit.

Cas was in his face as soon as Dean opened the door, looking like he’d moved a single muscle the whole time Dean had been in the bathroom, just waited in the exact spot the hunter had left him in. “Well?” 

“Shut your face!” Dean snapped, shouldered passed him and stormed out of the store. Half tempted to drive off and leave the Angel behind. 

**xXxXxXxXx**

“How was the date?” Sam asks cheerfully, hearing the bunker door squeak open. He heard it slam shut, a little harder than necessary. No answer to his question. He looked up. 

Dean’s jaw was tense, eyes dark, hands fisted by his sides, looking like he was ready to kill something, or someone. Cas was harder to read, his shoulders hunched forwards like they were trying to close in on themselves, head bowed. But neither looked happy. Neither of them had that first date glow that Sam had expected. His tone quickly shifted to worry. “What happened?”

“Ask Mr ‘Can’t keep his grace in his pants’ here!” Dean snaps, stomping past his brother into the library with purposeful strides. He’s too angry to explain, too angry to talk, too angry to do anything. He heads straight for the bottle, one thought in mind. 

The topper on the large bottle of whiskey gets yanked off and a genius three fingers poured into a matching tumbler. Without a second thought it was pressed to his lips. But as he tossed the glass back he caught himself. Realization hits him, full force and he coughs the drink back into the glass. 

The bottle shattered against the back wall, spraying glass shards and amber liquid everywhere, dripping down onto the bookcase below. Breathing heavily, Dean slammed himself into one of the chairs, head dropping to the table enclosed by his arms. Throwing the bottle hadn’t made him feel any better, but at least the temptation was gone.

He hears Cas’ deep voice rumble out in explanation, and Sam’s responding laugh, which falters and dies in the air, being replaced after a stagnant silence by a bewildered question. It may have been something along the lines of ‘you’re not kidding’, but Dean can’t be sure. He tunes them out, the words are lost to him anyway, like he’s hearing them from a distance or underwater. All he could hear with any clarity was one word, resounding through his head like a persistent heartbeat.

Pregnant. 

Pregnant. 

Pregnant. 

Pregnant. 

_ ‘You’re not sick, Dean. You’re pregnant.’ _

“It’s not possible,” he whispered to no one but himself in a shaking voice.

“It shouldn’t be,” Cas agreed, from next to him, causing Dean to startle. He’d been too distracted drawing in his own panic to notice the Angel had come over, or finished talking to Sam. Or move at all. 

“Nephilim aren’t something that can be created accidentally,” Cas continues, looking down at Dean with confused yet sad and apologetic eyes. 

“So you did this on purpose!” Dean shouted hotly, his chair skidding back, bouncing off the wall behind him as he jumped to his feet.

“No, Dean, I didn’t,” Cas tries, his eyes going wide with Dean’s sudden outburst of rage. “That’s what I’m trying to explain.”

“It’s too late for explanations now, Cas!” Dean growls out, his face reddening by the second. “You should have warned me  **_before_ ** !” 

“I-I didn’t think it was necessary.”

“Oh you didn’t think it was necessary.” Dean mocked, his voice, heavily in sarcasm and disdain, turning to thick anger. “Well, you thought wrong didn’t you?!”

He shoulder barges past the Angel as he strides hotly from the room. Cas calling after him, his voice near begging, “Dean...Dean, please, listen...”

“Let him go,” Sam instructs, throwing his arm across Cas’ chest to block the Angel as he went to follow. “Just give him some space. He needs it.” 

Castiel shot him with a confused and frustrated look. “He needs to understand how serious this is.”

Sam sighed, shaking his head. “He gets that. Trust me. But right now, he’s not going to listen to anyone. You can scream at him ‘til you’re blue in the face and it’s not gonna make one iota of difference... This is huge, Castiel. Bigger than huge. He’s gonna need some time to wrap his head around it all. Until then he’s going to lash out and right now you’re public enemy number one.”

Sam watches the decision play across Castiel’s features. The Angel rocking back and forth in desperate confusion, drawn between his need to go after the enraged hunter and doing as the younger brother suggests. It's obvious Castiel wants to stay close, the Angel looks physically pained by the sight of Dean walking away while so distressed. 

Sam almost sags in relief when the Angel complies and stills. Because going after Dean now is only going to result in Castiel getting pushed away, chewed out or worse yet, Dean will say or do something that both of them will end up regretting. 

Rubbing absently at his chest, the Angel looks up to the taller man. “I never intended for this to happen, Sam.”

“I know you didn’t, Cas,” Sam lets out sincerely, relocating his hand from holding Castiel back to giving him a supportive squeeze on the shoulder. The grasp does little to relieve the Angel’s soberingly mournful expression, but Sam tries anyway. Because he believes the Angel. Castiel is just as alarmed as Dean himself. Maybe even more so. The Angel looked like he was one slip away from going into shock. In his distraught state Dean won’t see it, or is unable to, which is understandable given the amount that must be going through his mind. “...And deep down Dean does too, you just have to give him the chance to realize that for himself.”

The sounds of something wooden bearing the brunt of Dean’s bad mood reaches back to their ears. They wince as the cracks and bangs continue, echoing loudly through the bunkers tunnels. 

“He’s so angry,” Cas said hollowly through a tight throat, his eyes stuck on the spot where Dean had disappeared from their view. 

Sam nodded silently in agreement. Venting out his frustration is a process Dean has to go through or he will throw up all his defensive walls, guarding himself and go into complete emotional and verbal shutdown. Sam has seen Dean’s violent coping mechanisms many times before. He knows the pattern and honestly the wrath of Dean is better lashed out on inanimate objects and far better than the alternative. 

“What can I do?”

Sam sighed, Cas just wasn’t getting it. Even with everything they’d experienced in their eventful lives Dean being pregnant was still an impossible pill to swallow. Sam doesn’t even think he’s fully processed it all, he’s just got something else to focus on. Namely getting his brother and Cas through the process of coping with this bombshell. But for Dean this must be so much harder to wrap his head around. 

“Nothing,” Sam told him sadly. “Right now, you’re the last person he wants to talk to.”

**xXxXxXxXx**

Dean stormed through the bunker, on a warpath, a fit of hot angry rage. He needed a drink, a strong one, to calm down and sooth his splintered nerves, or make him forget this day happened, or allow him to pass out in a stupor of blissed ignorance. He’d take any of those options right now, But he couldn’t. 

‘Cause he was pregnant.

Failing that he needed something to kill. Some evil ass he could vent all his anger, frustration out on. Something he could make hurt, that deserved to be hurt. Something he could stab a blade into until his rage bleed out along with the monster's life. But he couldn’t do that either. 

‘Cause he was fucking pregnant!

Denied his two most relied upon choices to vent out his anger, the unlucky door in front of him was kicked open with the full force of the heel of his right booted foot. The lock splintering off leaving a gaping hole in its wake, falling to the floor heavily as the rest of the door was smacked open, colliding loudly with the wall inside and splintering the hinges from the frame. 

The door got off lightly by comparison to what faced the rest of the room inside. Dean tore the room apart, a human tornado of pure rage. Smashing, kicking and throwing anything and everything that dared to come close to him. 

His wild one man demolition continued until the room was just as shattered and torn up as his thoughts were, littered with broken pieces of wood, glass and other debris that had only minutes before been solid furniture and fittings. 

With nothing else left to smash he punches the wall, pain shooting up his arm from his knuckles that come away chapped. It hurts, but it’s a different pain from the one clouding his thoughts at the moment. So he focuses on that, letting it take his mind away from the turmoil his thoughts are swirling in. 

He punches again and again. His hand went from chapped, to cut and bloody. The plaster cracked and splintered with the impacts, until his fist passed through it leaving a gaping hole to the room adjacent. Pulling his hand free, it comes away caked in plaster dust.

Staring at it, Dean slumped to the floor. This couldn’t be happening. It wasn't possible... yet it was. His thoughts swirled insanely trying to make sense of the jumbled mess, trying to recalculate what he had known to allow what was now a reality that was so far beyond what he had believed that it wasn't sinking in. A plethora of unanswered questions fought against one another, overtaking for first position in his mind. How had this happen? Why him? When? Why hadn’t Cas told him? How could Cas not have known? How was that possible? How was any of this possible?...What was he going to do? 

Oh god, what were people gonna say? The hunting community was mostly based on masculinity and strength. Even the women weren’t girly. They were tough flannel wearing, beer swilling one of the guys. He’d been worrying about what they would think when they found out that Dean wasn’t as hetro as he’d made out, but this was so much worse. This wasn’t that he liked dick, this was he’d taken dick to the point of getting knocked up. Those who didn’t have a problem with Dean being with a dude may have a problem with Cas not being human. And Dean becoming pregnant would only highlight just how non-human the Angel was, despite outside appearances. 

But he couldn’t and didn’t want to think about that now, there were far more pressing matters to address. Like what did this all mean for him? How could it have happened? Cas had said that it made no difference that he was a male, but surely the baby would need certain girl parts to live and holy fuck he hadn’t even thought about how the kid was supposed to be born! 

He definitely didn’t want to even consider how that would go! Cas should have warned him. Even if the chance was remote a little heads up should have happened. Surely he was entitled to that much. He would cry if he weren’t so angry. 

**xXxXxXxXx**

Dean is leant against the wall staring off at nothing, his bloodied fist resting on his one raised knee, when Sam finds him. 

“Don’t wanna talk about it, Sammy,” Dean warns, seeing his brothers approach out of the corner of his eye.

Sam nods, silently agreeing with his brother's request. His scans around the wreckage of the room, searching for somewhere to sit, settling for perching carefully on the edge of the upturned bed. He crossed his ankles and then his arms. Getting comfy because trying to talk to Dean when he’s wound up this tight is like trying to defuse a bomb when there’s no instructions and all the wires are red. Eventually it will go off, but if Sam could use that explosion to his advantage he may just be able to get Dean moving forwards. 

He lets the silence continue for a few minutes, just hoping his presence is seen more as support than interference, or an irritation, before gingerly testing the waters. “Cas is beating himself up pretty badly over this.”

“Yeah, well, he should be.”

Dean’s tone isn’t calm but it isn’t the explosion that Sam feared, so he pushed further. “Come on, Dean. You really think Cas would do this to you intentionally?”

Dean turned angered eyes up at his younger brother. “You’re taking his side?!”

“I’m not taking anyone's side,” Sam shot back, “but seriously, think about it. This is Cas we’re talking about.”

Dean scoffed, turning away. “He didn’t even warn me, Sammy,” he said through a clenched jaw. “Not one fucking word about it!”

“He said it shouldn’t have happened. He’s just as surprised as you are.”

“Surprised?!” Dean snapped, a look of complete disbelief, his eyes flashing with hot raw anger.

“Okay, okay, bad choice of words on my part,” Sam said passively, holding his palms out. “But come on, man. This is Cas. Do you really think he’d do this to you, without telling you, on purpose?”

“It’s not like he hasn’t lied to us before,” Dean argued, though Sam noticed the shift in his tone. The anger hadn’t completely disappeared, but there was a hint of sadness now laced through what remained, which makes Sam think that maybe Dean’s not fully believing what he’s saying. “How long was he paling around with Crowley behind our backs, and look how well that turned out.”

“And while that was all going on, who had his back? Huh? When Bobby and I were convinced he was up to something, who was it arguing for him, giving him the benefit of the doubt.” 

Dean stubbornly remained silent, not wanting to confirm that Sam was right. Because Dean had defended Cas, always had, always would. After everything Cas had done for the brothers over the years, he earned Deans trust and support more than anyone. The Angel had never let him down, always been there when the hunter needed him... That was what was causing such a bitter taste in Dean’s mouth. He would never have expected anything like this, not from his Angel. 

“You, Dean,” Sam continued, after giving Dean a chance to answer and realized he wasn't going to. “You’ve always had his back. Even when maybe you shouldn’t have. You’ve always believed in him, just like he has with you...and I know you don’t wanna hear this right now but Cas isn’t the bad guy here.”

Sam knew his brother needed someone to blame, someone to take his anger out on, but Sam firmly believed that this was nothing intentional on Castiel’s part. The Angel was just as freaked out about this as Dean was, he was just handling it different. Cas was scared, scared for Dean. Dean was lashing out, but Sam understood why. 

Dean had been forced to grow up way too quick. With Mom dead and their Dad too hellbent on revenge to be any sort of real parent to the boys, it was Dean that had taken up the mantle, sacrificing his own childhood for his baby brother. Sam hadn’t understood or appreciated it at the time, but as a man he can look back and see everything his brother had done for him when he was little more than a kid himself. No one had been there for Dean. No one had put Dean first... that was, until Castiel. 

And that was why Sam believed Castiel’s innocence. Not only did the Angel look sincerely terrified, but it also didn’t fit to Cas’ past behavior. Castiel had always been there for Dean, he would never do anything to hurt him, he had proven that himself time and time again. And also why Sam believed why Dean was taking this so hard. He felt betrayed. 

Of course this was going to be utterly shocking, even with everything they’d seen in their lives, Dean becoming pregnant would not be something either of them would have imagined in their wildest dreams or most fucked up nightmares. It just didn’t happen and yet somehow it had.

“Look if Cas said he didn’t do it... Could it be Amara?” Sam suggested. Dean’s eyes flicked up curiously. “She said she wanted to give you what you needed most, Right? Well, what if that wasn’t just Cas. What if it was a family? A real family of your own.”

“One fly in your logic Sammy,” Dean replied grumpily, turning his eyes up to his brother. “No guy needs to be pregnant.”

Sam pulled one of his many bitch faces and sighed. “Just hear him out okay?”

**xXxXxXxXx**

When Dean found Castiel sat in the library, he was staring blankly off into space, in a way Dean wished he didn’t recognize.

Leaning against the table Dean glared down at the vacant Angel, grinding his jaw in frustration and clasped his hands together. ‘ _ Cas, put down the fingerpaints, we have to talk... Now! _ ’ 

He waited, hoping his prayer would work as Cas had said it would. He could not handle another trip down the Angel’s memory Lane right now.

A short handful of seconds later Cas gave a couple of fluttered blinks, before his eyes turned soulfully to Dean’s and the hunter doesn’t think he’s ever seen the Angel look quite like that before, especially not while looking at him. There's sorrow there, and more than a touch of fear. “I’m-”

“-I don’t wanna hear you’re sorry,” Dean told him adamantly, dismissing the apology he knew was coming with a shake of his head and breaking eye contact, so he doesn’t have to see that wounded look. He immediately takes a deep calming breath, trying to control the threatening anger that’s bubbling back up inside him and push it down deep. He doesn’t want to snap. He promised Sam he’d hear Cas out. “I wanna know how this could have happened.”

“I don’t know,” Cas said looking desperately honest. “It shouldn’t have.”

“You’re gonna have to give me more than that, Cas.” Dean said, trying not to let the Angel’s deeply troubled expression shift his resolve. “None of this makes any sense. Why didn’t you say anything, warn me? I had no clue this was even possible.”

“It shouldn’t be, I shouldn't...I shouldn’t have been able to... I was told...” he broke off, clearly flustered, struggling to find the right words. 

Dean frowned curiously, watching his Angel stammer. It wasn’t like Cas to get flustered, over anything. He could count the number of times he’d seen Cas struggle to get out what he wanted to say on one hand. It peeks his curiosity, he has to know. What was he told? By whom? He shouldn’t be able to do what? The questions swarm through his mind, while Cas blushes, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, before dropping his head hiding the flush of his cheeks. 

But he let it slide as Cas pulled in a sharp breath and continued determinedly. He can ask later. When he’s got the most important answer that he needs right now. 

“Conceiving a Nephilim is not as simple as conceiving a human child.” Cas pauses again, thinking of the easiest way to explain. “It can’t happen through copulation alone, that is only the last step in order to get the DNA from the Angels vessel and allow the human side to form.”

“The last step?” Dean parroted.

“Yes. The angel side needs the grace to merge with a piece of the soul, but before anything can happen the human has to agree to it,” Cas stated. “You would have had to say yes, Dean.”

“Like with a possession?” Dean queried.

“Very similar, yes,” Cas agreed, his tone growing more confident with Dean’s understanding. 

“But I never said-” Dean stopped himself, questioning. Had he? He’d said a lot of things in the throes of passion, ‘yes’ could definitely have been one of the things that had slipped from his lips. But he hadn’t meant it like that. There was a big difference between ‘Yes, Cas, just there, like that’ and ‘Yes, I want you to give me your half Angel love child’. He hadn’t said ‘yes’ to - to that. How specifically did this ‘yes’ have to be? Surely that should have been something that was mentioned before. Something that was desperately important and yet this is the first time he’s hearing about it! What the hell was Cas thinking? The implication made his temper flare red hot.

“Are you saying this is my fault?!”

All Cas’ settling evaporated in an instant. Immediately jumping back to nervous defence. “No Dean, I’m not-”

“-Because I got news for you Buddy, maybe I would have watched what I was saying if someone had informed me of the consequences!” 

Castiel sighed, taking a long moment to drop his head and let Dean’s anger abate somewhat, before turning his soulful blues eyes up, meeting Dean’s in painful honesty. “You didn’t say ‘yes’ to it,” he clarified, “but even if you had, I would still have to consciously force my grace into merging with your soul, Dean.” 

“And you didn’t?”

“Of course not,” Cas objected, his brow closing in a hurt ‘you really think I would do that?’ look. With a sigh his tone softened greatly, “I didn’t tell you any of this because it wasn’t a risk. I would never have asked for a ‘yes’ and even if you gave one I wouldn’t allow it to happen anyway.”

“So how did this happen?”

“That’s what I’m saying, Dean. There’s no way this should have.”

“Could you have done it by mistake?” the hunter wondered out loud. “Lost control for a second?”

Cas shook his head. “You would have known if I had. We both would have. We would have felt it.” 

“I dunno, Cas. Our nights together have been pretty intense. I mean, you’ve taken out the entire room, multiple times.”

Cas sighed, his head dropping. “Losing control wouldn’t...” again, he shook his head, changing his mind on how to word it. “You know how powerful the human soul is, Dean. Touching it, even with grace would need to be an extremely delicate process. It’s not something that could be done accidentally. You’d be more likely to explode than conceive.”

“So that’s what you were in your head for?” Dean asked.

“For any hint of how this could have happened, yes.”

“And?” Dean asked. “Did you find anything?”

Cas shook his head quietly. “Nothing definite, but here was one thing I noticed that may be relevant... The mark on your arm.” 

Dean’s eyes flashed to his forearm, for a moment fearing the mark of Cain's return, but the area where the mark once resided was clear, empty and unblemished. Dean rubbed his hand against it and then checked the other, turning both his forearms over a few times, needed to be sure, until Castiel reached over and gently touched Dean high on his left shoulder, drawing his attention to the point of contact and Dean immediately knew what Cas meant, but he pulled up his sleeve anyway, revealing the faint almost invisible handprint. A faded memento of the handprint Cas had left on him when he pulled the hunter from hell.

“It wasn’t there,” Dean stammered out. “It healed years ago. It came back after that night. I...” He’d forgotten all about it, and with everything that had been going on he had neglected to mention it to Cas as well, dismissing it as nothing more than an angelic hickey, a token of their time together. 

“That mark happened the first time I touched your soul, Dean.” Cas continued. “It could be that its reappearance is a sign of my grace touching your soul once again, but I don’t see how that could be possible without either of us knowing.” 

Dean dropped his sleeve, covering the scar that Cas’ eyes were guiltily glued to. The true sadness shining on the Angel’s face dissolved the last shred of Dean’s anger and reached out taking gentle hold of his hand. Cas hadn’t meant this to happen, that much had become so obvious. He had only neglected to tell Dean what the Angel deemed to be irrelevant and Dean had been guilty of doing just the same when he failed to inform Cas about the marks return. He hadn’t realized it’s possible importance and neither had Cas. To put the blame solely on the Angels shoulders would be hypercritical. 

“Sam thinks it was Amara,” Dean said mostly tonelessly, but with a hint of hope. Maybe neither of them were to blame. Maybe they were just unsuspecting pawns in the dark gods plans. 

Castiel nodded slowly, brow pinched in, telling Dean his Angel was deep in thought once again, considering the possibility and not looking at all convinced.

“You don’t think so?”

“It’s just as likely a theory as anything else,” Castiel replied.

“But?” Dean asked, pushing the Angel to continue. There was obviously something more that the Angel was reluctant to say, Dean could tell and now was not the time for him to be left in the dark. 

“With us coming together, Amara only called up feelings that were already there... To create life, to go against your free will.” Castiel sagged in his seat, looking thoroughly worn out from trying to make sense of what the Angel knew to be impossible. “Whatever way I look at it, it doesn’t add up. It’s like there’s something we’re missing.”

“Okay, so we don’t know the how, or why, but we know the when. It happened on our first night together, you’re sure of that?” Dean reasoned, wanting to find a silver lining for Cas. His Angel certainly looked like he needed to hear something positive right about now. 

“It certainly looks that way,” his Angel agreed. “The growth rate of the Nephilim would also support that time frame.”

“You saw that?” Dean asked quickly. He knew Cas had seen his pregnancy just by touching Dean’s forehead to heal him, but he had assumed that had been the extent of it, because the Angel hadn’t seen anything before that moment. To see a growth rate, showed Cas had seen more than a pregnancy. He had seen the Nephilim. “But you couldn’t tell before?”

Castiel looked up at him with a look in his eye Dean couldn’t quite place. “You have no idea how brightly your soul shines, Dean.” he said, the reverence in his voice so awefilled it was almost worship. “... It’s blinding.”

Of all the unbelievable things Dean had heard that day, this was almost the hardest for him to believe. His soul could be bright enough to blind? It was ludicrous. There was no way with everything that he’d done that his soul could have the purity that his Angel claimed. People had died because of him. He had blood on his hands. He’d sold that very soul to a demon, been to hell, tortured in hell, he’d held the mark of Cain and succumbed to its influence, murdering innocent and becoming a demon himself. There was no feasible way that his soul could be anything other than a tattered, corrupted mutilated mess. But the way Castiel speaks about it, in complete honest awe, Dean knows it would be fruitless to argue with him. Beauty truly was in the eye of the beholder he supposed. 

“Is it safe to enter?” Sam asked, his head appeared round the corner from the hallway and sparing Dean from having to respond.

“Yes, Sam,” Castiel responded, freeing his hand from Dean’s light grasp and quickly healing the hunter wounded knuckles before he could have a chance to object. 

“Did you figure anything out?” the younger Winchester asked, dumping a small stack of books and files onto the table top, pulling out a seat opposite the couple and sitting down. 

“Nothing definite. Only when it happened... And I’m sure you don’t want those details,” Dean replied with a cocky raise of his eyebrow.

Sam grinned, despite Dean’s inappropriate teasing. If his brother was making light of the situation things were boding better than he had dared hope. “Well, I’ve pulled out what I can find that the men of letters have on Nephilims,” he told them, guestering to the assortment of research material he had gathered together, starting to spread it out between them. 

“That’s it?” Dean said fumbling over one of the file folders, surprised at the meager assortment. There had been more about the Mark of Cain, which predated records. How was there so little on the Angel offsprings?

“Nephilims are extremely rare,” Cas explained, not looking like he shared Dean’s shocked disappointment, quite the opposite in fact, he looked impressed at the array Sam had brought in. “The one you now carry is only the second one conceived this century.” 

But that still didn’t explain the lack of reports to Dean. Two in the last hundred years was still twice as many bearers of the mark since Cain had taken it from Lucifer a millennia ago. He was about to voice his thoughts when Cas continued. 

“Heaven will have done their best to keep what's known to a minimum. Nephilim are said to be dangerous abominations. Their creation is highly outlawed. Those who break the laws are executed, no exceptions.”

“Leaving no witnesses to share the info.” Sam concluded. “So if they find out about Dean-”

“-Both myself and the Nephilim will be killed,” Cas finished.

Sam swallowed nervously, “...And Dean?”

The fear that Dean had witnessed in his Angel’s eyes the moment he had seen the Nephilim inside of him, was back and just as bright. “As long as he’s bearing, they will not hesitate.” 

Sam eyes jumping fretfully between the pair of them. “Do they know?” 

“No,” Cas replied. “All Angels can sense the conception of a Nephilim. The serge of celestial power that happens when a Nephilim is conceived is felt by all, yet I sensed nothing at the time and nothing came across Angel radio. I suspect that the warding I placed on both your ribs has kept the Nephilim hidden. At least for now”

“So we’re safe?” Dean asked, looking hopeful.

Cas’ eyes bore up to Dean’s own, fear, sorrow - so much sorrow swimming in those blue pools. Cas was terrified. Sadly he broke the gaze, unable to look Dean’s way as he spoke, “To the best of my knowledge, only one human has ever survived birthing a Nephilim.”

“One?” Sam gasped out, his face crumpling mournfully as his eyes flit back and forth between Cas and his brother worriedly. “Out of how many?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere in the low thousands.”

Sam gulped fearfully, not like the sound of those odds. Not when it was his brother who’s life was on the line. 

“The only way to guarantee your survival would be to-” Castiel paused, like he was struggling to find the words, or he knows the words but was reluctant to voice them. He bows his head, staring at the table top so as to avoid looking at either of the Winchesters. Sucking in a sharp breath he powers the sentence out. “We would have to terminate the pregnancy.” 

Oh this was far worse than Dean had first thought. He can’t believe what he’s hearing. This could kill him? Probably will. But to terminate? Kill it before it’s even born? Before it even had a chance for life. Did Cas really just suggest that? His Angel? Surely not!

He swallows thickly, needing the moment to process what he’s still only half sure he actually heard. “Is that what you want Cas?”

Watching Cas closely, flitting from one blue eye to the other, to see any reaction Cas would give. Searching for the truth, knowing it’s a nearly impossible question for the Angel to answer. 

Cas stares back almost blankly, before his eyes drop to Dean’s abdomen. But whether Cas was simply avoiding the human’s gaze or looking to the Nephilim within Dean couldn’t be sure. His Angel’s expression is giving away nothing, he’s only showing the worry and fear, maybe a hint of guilt, but whether or not he feels for what’s growing inside Dean, that the hunter can’t see. 

“I would do anything to keep you safe,” Castiel finally speaks up sadly, under the hunters intense watch and Dean doesn’t doubt for a second the sincerity of what the Angel is saying, but he can also see the conflict brewing beneath the surface. He knew that despite Dean’s misgivings, Cas was capable of anything if he believed it was the right thing to do. 

Dean remembers Jessie, the little boy born half Demon. Heaven had wanted the kid dead and Cas had barely hesitated. Probably would have succeeded too if the boy hadn’t gotten the upper hand on the Angel first. 

But Cas had been following Heaven’s orders without question back then, like the good little soldier he had been at the time. He wasn’t the same Angel anymore. He made his own rules. Yet Dean knew Cas would still do whatever it took to protect those he cared for. Terminating a pregnancy to save Dean’s life? There would be no question from the Angel. No hesitation. No doubt and probably no regret. 

So he was capable of killing an innocent child, but would that include their child? His own child!

That’s when a realization hits Dean, full force. The complete magnitude of the situation washing over him like a tsunami of ice cold water. It wasn’t simply a pregnancy, he wasn’t just pregnant. It wasn’t just something he hadn’t expected or agreed to. 

He was having a baby, an actual living, breathing baby. A child, with Cas. It wasn’t just some Nephilim that was growing inside of him, it was a life that they had created, together. A baby half him and half Cas. He was going to be a Father, a Dad, they both were. They were going to be parents. This was life. Their baby, his and Castiel’s. 

A small smile tugs up at his lips, while his hand subconsciously grazes under his shirt, palming protectively over his stomach. Their child.

“How are we meant to do that, Cas?” Sam was saying when Dean finally started registering what was being said around him. The conversation had apparently continued without his participation. “We can’t exactly take Dean to a clinic for an abortion.”

“No, that may raise a few questions,” the Angel replied absently. 

“May?” Sam scoffed.

“But that shouldn’t be necessary.” Cas continued, completely missing the tone of near disbelief in Sam’s voice. “At this early stage of development I should be able to end the pregnancy myself.”

“...No...” Dean interrupted, sounding stunned and weak in his objection. His voice has no strength, no conviction. And after the deep gravelly explanation from Cas it sounded nothing more than childlike. 

Raising his head, Dean finds both of them looking at him with matching oddly confused expressions, like they had almost forgotten he was there.

Dean swallowed and when he spoke again his voice had somehow found the strength he needed it to have. “That’s not an option!”

“Dean?” Sam spoke up, after sharing a side-eyes questioning look with Castiel. “Are you saying that you wanna keep it?”

Was he saying that? Is that what he wanted? Right now, he didn’t know. But the one thing he does know, with absolute clarity, is that killing it wasn’t an option. It just wasn’t. It deserves a chance, a chance to live. Dean hadn’t asked for this, and by the sounds of what the Angel had told him Cas hadn’t either, but neither had the Nephilim. “I’m not saying that I wanna do this, but... it’s innocent. And it’s a part of me, a part of us, all of us... it’s family. And we don’t give up on family. Not ever!”

“Dean, this could kill you,” Cas snapped, his face a mask of fierce concern.

“I don’t care!” Dean shouted back in the Angel’s face, immediately regretting his outburst when Cas’ face dropped, crestfallen and the look sent a surge of guilt into the hunters chest like a stab wound, the Angel’s kicked puppy expression more powerful than any weapon. 

Dean turned his back to him so not to have to see the pain on Cas’ face. Okay, he hadn’t meant that. Not entirely. Not the way it had come out. What he had meant was that he didn't care about the risks. All pregnancies carried a certain risk, right? Maybe his was a much riskier one, but they were used to insurmountable odds and it didn't mean that the kid deserved to die.

He needed something to get his brother and the Angel on board with this. Needed a way to give them both some confidence in him, even if he didn’t really feel it himself. He didn’t want to fight them both on this and things would be easier if they were all on the same page. 

“Look, I’m Michael’s sword, right?” he began, spinning round to face them, finding both were giving him their wrapped attention, with matching worried and confused expressions. “His true vessel. If I’m supposedly strong enough to hold an archangel, then in comparison a little half angel kid should be a walk in the park, right?”

With a wearily troubled look Cas approached, stepping up close into Dean’s personal space. Bringing his hand up between them, he gently cupped the hunters cheek. “It doesn’t work that way, Dean.” 

And that was the last he heard before his world went black.

“Cas! What the hell?!” Sam exclaimed, jumping to his feet, eyes wide in stunned disbelief, as his older brother slumped in Castiel’s arms, rendered unconscious by the Angel’s touch. In one fluid motion Castiel caught Dean around the shoulders, and kneeling carefully lowered him gently to the ground. “What are you doing?”

“What I have to,” Cas says bluntly, quickly unbuttoning his cuff and pushing his sleeves up to his elbow, leaving his forearm bear. “To save his life.” 

Sam gasped at the familiarity of the sight, remembering the pain of his own Angelic ‘cavity search’ when they had found out his soul was missing. 

Castiel leaned over his unconscious mate, steadying himself for what had to be done. He may not know exactly how he had gotten Dean into this condition, but somehow he had and he wasn’t going to let him stay this way. He would do anything it took to spare the human. 

“Wait.” Sam said gently, reaching out to catch hold of Cas’ wrist. The younger brother’s voice was almost hesitant, but the grip on Cas’ wrist strong enough to pause the Angel, who looked up at him with questioning eyes. 

“We can’t wait, Sam.” Castiel told him. Nephilims grew into their powers, eventually becoming much stronger than the Angel that sired them and Castiel had no knowledge of when precisely that would be. He only knew that they grew at their own pace, so maybe there was no way of knowing. At the moment there was a good chance that he would only have to take back his grace, or heal the fragment of Dean’s soul, or crush the collection of cells, to save Dean’s life. If he could do this before it became a conscious life in its own right, there was a chance. But the longer the pregnancy was allowed to continue the less likely Castiel would be able to end it. “It has to be now, before it’s too late.”

“Look, I get we’re on the clock here and I don’t want him to do this either, but don’t you think it should be his choice?”

“He’s not thinking clearly.” Castiel argued. “He doesn’t understand how dangerous this is and I don’t have the luxury of giving him the time.”

“What if he can’t forgive you, Cas?” Sam reasoned. “You could lose him.”

Castiel’s head dropped, his eyes closing as if in pain at the thought. “I run that risk either way. At least if I do this he’ll be alive.”

He could see the dilemma play across Sam’s features. His resistance to going against his brother’s choice battling with the need to not lose Dean and Cas knew his own face was probably mirroring the emotions. 

“He said it himself, Sam. He doesn’t want this... and I’m not going to let him sacrifice himself because of some ingrained need of his to protect everyone else apart from himself. I can relieve him of that burden.”

When Sam didn’t object further Castiel turned his head away from him and back to Dean, still out cold. He didn’t want to do this against Dean’s wishes, he really didn’t, but he knew so surely that the hunter would never consent to putting his life before another. But to Cas no life was worth more to him than the unconscious human laying before him. And at this moment what was growing inside Dean was little more than a cluster of cells. To never be born was vastly different to being killed. If he acted quick enough Dean’s life could be spared. 

Decision made, he pushed his fist forward, using his grace to phase his vessels hand and forearm into another plane so it could pass into Dean’s torso harmlessly, albit painfully. Had the hunter not been asleep it would be excruciating. Even in his unconsciousness Dean’s face still twisted into a wince, and Cas sent out a silent apology as he pressed in past his wrist. 

As soon as he opens up his senses, his mind's eye is almost blinded by the brightness of Dean’s soul, but he had expected that and planned for it. Even from the outside Castiel had alway seen the beautiful trueness, this close however with all of his senses open to it, it was almost painful. He quickly shuts down the part of his senses that can see the inner essences and reaches out, feeling for the changes that had already been made to Dean’s physical body instead. There, pressed up tight against the hunters bowel was a womb. The womb that he had accidently found earlier, while trying to heal Dean from what he quickly had realised was actually morning sickness and not stomach flu or food poisoning that they both had assumed at the time.

Cautiously, Castiel reached towards it, passing through the protective lining searching for the abomination growing within. He can already feel the Nephilim's power. Its grace fueled by the stolen part of Dean’s soul, heating up the inside of its womb a few degrees hotter than the rest of Dean’s natural core temperature. Even in its miniscule stature the power is intense. The changes it’s already made to Dean’s body frightening in such a short space of time. 

Dean moans, though whether subconscious or because Cas had unintentionally caused the human more pain he can’t be sure, but he sends out another wave of his grace to the human, making sure he stays unconscious throughout the procedure and feels as little pain as possible.

As gingerly as he can, he slowly reaches in, carefully cupping his fingers around the little ball of energy.

It nuzzled innocently against his palm, happily buzzing away in recognition of the grace of its Father, that perfectly matched its own. The hunter’s voice seems to be stubbornly stuck in Castiel’s head,  _ It’s a part of me, a part of us, all of us... it’s family _ , no matter how hard he tries to push those thoughts away. 

But he has to do this! For Dean, to save him. To save the life of the man he loves more than anything else. 

His face twists into a fierce resolve. He moves gingerly, trying to cause as little pain to Dean as physically possible, as his hand tightens, closing in around the tiny spark of life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, another evilly placed cliffhanger. 
> 
> Sorry for the wait on this one. This chapter was meant to be a short one that was already nearly finished when I put up the last, but at some point it kinda got away from me. I already know the next is going to be challenging. So there will probably be a longer than usual delay in getting the next up. Feel free to drop a message to kick my ass and keep me focused.  
> Much love and thanks to all who have been supporting my first venture into the wonderful world of Destiel. As always thoughts are appreciated.
> 
> SGsVamp xXx


	7. To Live is to Die

**Chapter Seven**

**To Live is to Die**

  
  


Groggily, Dean threw a frown at the blurred ceiling about him, as if it was personally responsible for his confused waking. Feeling like a rock was stuck in his chest he blinked slowly, until it started to come into some focus. 

The room was still and quiet. One would almost say peaceful. Almost. That is if it wasn’t for the underlying tension that was heavy in the air. Though Dean was still too sleep muddled to fully recognize its meaning or significance .

“I’m so sorry, Dean.” Castiel’s deep baritone cut through the atmosphere like a dart.

Dean rolled his head towards the sound, peaking over at the direction Cas’ voice had come from in their darkened bedroom.

Cas was perched over by the desk, his elbows resting on parted knees, pushing his shoulders up around his ears. His interlacing fingers hammocked between his legs, which would have given the impression that the Angel was relaxed if it weren’t for the stiffness he carried. His deeply sorrow-filled eyes seemed to weigh the Angel down even moreso, as he stared back at Dean, statue still, looking like he hadn’t moved in hours.

And knowing Cas, as well as he did, Dean guessed he probably hadn’t. 

Dean’s frown doubled, wondering what the Angel could possibly be apologizing for. And why was he sitting all the way over there instead of cuddled up with the hunter. Since their first night together, Dean had woken up each morning, without fail, entangled with the Angel. Even though Cas didn’t need to sleep he had always seemed to stay cuddled with Dean all night, maybe he had shifted during or maybe even left and come back before Dean woke, Dean wouldn’t have known, but either way he always woke up with him and Cas in more or less the same positions they had been in when he had fallen asleep.

Was that what Cas was sorry for? He hadn’t made it back it time before Dean woke up. That didn’t seem to make much sense, because Cas looked like he hadn’t moved in hours. He would have had more than enough time to retake his spot before Dean woke.

And since when did Dean sleep fully clothed, on top of the covers? He didn’t even remember going to bed. 

In fact the last thing he remembers was-

Oh god!

Dean’s eyes go wide in horrored realization as the fog lifts abruptly and everything comes flooding back. The date, the nausea, finding out he was pregnant, the conversation about terminating it and then...

The confusion he had felt hearing Cas’ apology shifts to sheer dread and panic fists his insides, as he realizes what the Angel could be apologizing for.

“Cas? What the hell did you do?!” 

Fisting his shirt, he yanks it up and stares down at his midsection, his other hand jumping to feel over the skin on his stomach as if he could tell from the outside whether or not there was still life growing within. Which he knows he can’t, but still he clutches at it in fearful dread. 

“Did you...?” He couldn't even finish the question. The words sticking in his suddenly too tight throat, because he didn’t even want to think about it, let alone say it out loud. 

“I tried to,” Cas replied, his head drooping low, staring at a spot on the floor between his feet, unable to meet the hunters accusing eyes. “But I...I couldn’t.”

“So, I’m-” Again Dean couldn't finish, didn’t want to say out loud, didn’t want to hear the hope in his own voice. It would make it too real. His eyes scanning his torso, only just noticing that the hand hovering just below his belly-button, was shaking with nerves. 

“You’re still pregnant, Dean,” Castiel said, with a voice wavering in remorse. 

Dean puffed out a huge sigh of relief, flopping down heavily onto the bed, as all the tension evaporated from his body. Still he’s surprised at just how much relief flooded him through him with Cas’ words. His free hand was raking through his hair, as if the gentle pressure could calm the mess of thoughts jumbling his troubled mind, the other he still held with tightening protectiveness to his stomach.

He eyed the Angel warily. Cas not being able to terminate the pregnancy could mean the Angel hadn’t been strong enough, or there were complications which hindered what he was trying to achieve. Dean didn’t dare hope that it could mean anything else.

Castiel kept his head bowed, unable or unwilling to risk catching Dean’s eye. But he didn’t need sight to know, to sense everything that was being thrown off the hunter. As much as he wants to wallow in self-pity, or explain and plead for Dean to understand, he can’t right now. What Dean needs comes first and at that moment what Dean needs is time to process. So Castiel stays still in an uneasy silence, the tension between them heavy, until Dean speaks again.

“You don’t want it.” Dean hardly recognizes his own voice as it croaks from him. He hadn’t even meant to say anything, but the words escaped without consent as the thought had stubbornly taken hold in his mind and wouldn’t let go. His voice resounds in the stillness of their room, making the silence that followed seem heavy with tension. He can practically feel the Angel’s stare as he rubs his face and reluctantly swung his legs off the bed, sitting up to mirror Cas’ still too stiff stance, nervously waiting for his response. 

“No, that’s not true.” Castiel licked his lower lip and sucked in a wet sounding wavered breath. His focus still locked on the floor between his feet. He shifts nervously in the seat. “I’m conflicted, Dean. For thousands of years I’ve been led to believe that Nephilim were created only for destruction and war... And this one-”

“- **_Our_ ** one!” Dean interrupted angrily.

Castiel nodded passively. “Yes, our one, if nothing is done it will kill you, Dean...and I... I can’t lose you.” 

“So you tried to kill it first?” Dean snapped accusingly. Refusing to be moved, or sidetracked by the Angel’s turmoil. “Without looking for another way, without giving it a chance, even knowing that wasn’t what I wanted!” 

“Yes.” Finally Cas lifts his head and allows his sight to fall on the human. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do to save your life.” 

There was something in the Angel’s expression that softened Dean’s resolve. Cas was torn up, yes, but there was something else there that Dean couldn’t quite recognize. “So why didn’t you?” he asked curiously. 

“Because I saw our child, Dean... Or rather I  **_felt_ ** them.” Castiel told him, unsure how to put into words what he had seen when he tried to extinguish the threat to Dean’s life. It was so far from the monstrous abomination he had been led to believe Nephilim to be it was dazzling. What he had seen was a bright spark of life that was their child. A little life that shared a piece of Dean’s soul. A soul that he valued and cherished more than he thought could ever be possible. Dean’s soul was so wholesome it was unearthly that nothing that shared that goodness could be anything other than wondrous. “And they’re so good, Dean.” 

As soon as Cas’ eyes met his own Dean could see all that Cas was silently conveying. It’s in the faint twinkle of his sad eyes, that’s brightly obvious even in the dimed room. The slight upturn of a barely there grin that's turning up the corner of his mouth ever so softly and the sharply determined focus of his features. Castiel is deeply worried, wracked with guilt, but he is also completely and unconditionally in love with his unborn child. 

Maybe it's instinctual. Some inbuilt parental gene that tells Dean he’s safe. A calm washed through him and he knows, he doesn’t know how he knows, but he does, as surely as he knows his own name, that he doesn’t have to fight for the life inside him anymore. Cas is no threat anymore. Now his Angel would fight for their child just as fiercely as Dean would himself, maybe even more so. They’re in this together and as scary as the thought is there’s comfort there too. 

“Dean,” Castiel breathed out, sliding off the chair to kneel at his mate’s feet, his head bowed to the floor. “What I did - What I tried to do... If you can’t forgive me I understand. I-”

“Hey,” Dean stopped him, reaching out to gently take his Angel’s chin and raise his head back up. “Enough with the dramatics, Cas. I get it... Hell, if I’d been in your shoes I may have done the same,” Dean said as truthfully as he could, because in all honesty he had no idea what he would do if it had been Cas in his place. Gambling with his own life for that of an innocent was one thing, it was an easy choice for him to make. But if it was his Angel’s life on the line instead and he had the power to save him ... It didn’t bear thinking about. As much as he hated what Cas had done - or tried to do, he can more than appreciate the impossible position Cas was in. 

Castiel turned wide stunned eyes up to his mate. Dean had always been the most caring human being the Angel had ever come across, but the hunter also had a fierce temper and would fight until his last breath for those he considered family. The Angel had honorable intentions, he had only thought to spare Dean's life, but in trying to terminate the pregnancy he had gone against the hunter's core values. Not only by attempting to kill a loved one, but he had also disregarded Dean’s choice in the matter and therefore robbed him of his free will. Castiel had not dared to expect any level of understanding, or forgiveness. 

Rising up, Castiel wrapped grateful arms around the humans shoulders, pulling Dean’s check into his chest, hoping the embrace could convey all that words would never be enough for. The man that he loved, that he had fallen for in every possible way, was so far beyond what he had deserved that the Angel was momentarily awestruck. 

Dean tucked his head under Cas’ chin and stole a deep steadying breath, taking in his Angel’s airy scent and basking in the comfort he found in the touch. Letting himself take a moment to process and reflect. 

He should be pissed, furious even. Cas had tried to kill their child. Against his wishes. But he just couldn’t bring himself to be. In that moment, with Cas’ arms holding him close in offering solidarity and support he realizes something. Cas had made a mistake, a dreadful, unspeakable mistake, but the Angel’s heart had been in the right place. He had only acted out of love and fear of losing that love. Dean could see the regret eating at his Angel and there was not a chance in hell Dean was going to add to that pain, not when Cas was fueling that fire well enough by himself.

Cas being on his side lifted one heavy burden off his shoulder, but that meant it brought the other into sharp focus. Everything he thought he knew about where his life was heading, had been turned on its axis and even though he’s hugely grateful for it, Cas’ one-eighty wasn’t helping the spinning of his mind. 

He was going to have a baby, with Cas. Right that moment there was a tiny life growing somewhere in his mid-section. He didn’t know where exactly, how it worked, or really anything definitive, but it didn’t really matter. The result was the same whatever the answers. He was going to be a dad. He and Cas were going to be fathers. It was elating as much as it was terrifying.

“So we’re really doing this?” Dean asked, unable to mask the nervousness to his tone.

Castiel pulled him tighter still. Holding him like he was the most precious thing in the world. “I will do everything in my power to get you - both of you through this,” he whispered adamantly into Dean’s hair.

“Geeze, Cas,” Dean huffed out, snuggling in deeper to his Angel’s embrace. “I said enough with the dramatics. I know you will.” 

He bit back a yawn, burying his face into Cas’ chest, basking in the warmth as something occurred to him. “Is this why I’ve been so tired recently?”

Cas paused while he thought about it. “I would imagine so. The changes your body is going though must be a strain on your system.”

Dean pulled out of the embrace fractionally, so he could clearly see his Angel’s face. “Changes?” he asked hesitantly, his eyes widening in worry, not sure he wanted to hear the details, but his curiosity was peeking. He just hoped it wasn’t in a ‘killed the cat’ kinda way. 

“Being not naturally equipped to carry a child,” Castiel began softly, “the Nephilims grace is altering some of your physiology.”

Dean swallowed nervously. “Like how?” he asked through quivering lips, still doubting he actually wanted or was ready to hear the answer.  _ ‘Please don’t say I’m becoming a woman. Please don’t say I’m becoming a woman. Please don’t.’ _

“Some hormone changes and erm...” Castiel turned his head, addressing the wall so he could avoid looking Dean in the eye. Which only served to make the human all the more paranoid that he wasn’t going to like what was about to come out of the Angel’s mouth. “...You’ve grown a womb.”

Okay, that was... well, it was weird. Totally beyond weird. 

And yet it’s not as bad as he was fearing it to be and in a disturbingly odd way it made sense. Their kid would need somewhere to live and grow, right? 

Their kid. The thought made him internally smile. Dean had known for nearly his whole life that a real family was not on the table for him, the hunters' life just didn’t allow it. So he’d settled for his ‘family doesn’t end in blood’ family. Other hunters, people who’d been pulled into the life, like Bobby, Jo, Ellen, Charlie, they had become his family and he’d lost every one of them. Further proving to him that family, even an extended one, was not something he could ever have. 

But fate, it seemed, was going to prove him wrong, in the most wondrous way. And suddenly his mind is flooded with images, a possible future life flashing before his eyes: Rocking a tiny bundled infant to sleep. Blowing raspberries on a baby's chubby belly, while Cas scrubs spit-up off his trench-coat. Sam laughing as he picks dried baby food out of his hair. Castiel hunched over a grinning toddler, who’s clutching the Angel’s fingers tightly as they’re guided through their first stumbly step. Cas holding Baby’s door open so Dean could gently ease a sleepy child out of their car seat after the little tike had nodded off during the drive. The three of them standing on the side lines, cheering on a little league team. 

“Dean?”

Dean snaps his head up with a startled breath, realizing from the worried gaze his Angel was fixing him with, that he must have been silent for a long while. 

“Are you alright?” Cas asks as he wipes a tear from Dean’s check. 

“Yeah,” Dean sighs out, a smile freeing another. He can’t remember the last time he’d shed a happy tear. 

Or if he ever had. 

“Yeah,” he repeated, scrubbing his hand over his face. “Yeah, Cas, I’m good. I’m more than good.”

**xXxXxXxXx**

Sam’s eyes were starting to glaze over. He’d only been reading what the Men of Letters had documented on Nephilim for the handful of hours that Dean had been out for, but he was already sick of their pompous views and limited details, which were not only repeating, but also completely unhelpful. All the reports were written in overly embellish palaver that gave the impression that the author had all the knowledge on the subject, without actually giving any details. It was a seemingly never ending repeating cycle of useless information. 

He’d lost count of the amount of times he’d read the phrase; ‘Angel Human hybrid’, or ‘sons of gods’ and ‘daughters of man’, some had even referenced them as ‘giants’. None of the entries he’d read so far had any factual accounts of their creation and what little was said about them themselves was reading as if merely going off hearsay or translated ancient lore. Nothing to explain how they could be created, no encounters or witnesses to either Nephilim, or Angel sire and the human parent wasn’t even mentioned. Which held weight to what Castiel had said about Heaven killing them all off along with their Angelic sire, but also dimmed Sam’s hopes in finding a human parent that had survived.

Castiel had stated earlier that day that he knew of one human who had lived after birthing a Nephilim, but the Angel was currently preoccupied with watching Dean sleep, so he could beg for forgiveness as soon as Dean woke and was therefore unavailable to answer any of Sam’s questions. Not that it had seemed like the Angel knew much more than he had already shared.

So all he knew was that Nephilim carry both angelic grace as well as a human soul, so while they appear human they have the abilities of an Angel, but will grow to be more powerful than the Angel that fathered them. Though Castiel had no idea of when precisely that would accrue or how much stronger they would become and Sam was finding no references that shed any extra light on the matter either. 

That was the other matter that troubled Sam. Castiel wasn’t a regular Angel, not anymore. Chuck had brought him back as a Seraph after the first time he died. He was now more powerful than an Angel, so that should imply that the Nephilim Dean carried was going to be stronger also. How strong would that make it? Were they talking about Archangel levels of power? Would that make it harder for Dean to survive? Or easier seeing as Dean was the true vessel for the Archangel Michael and therefore fate-made equipped to handle that level of power. Castiel had been so distressed that he had tried to wipe it out while it was still in the womb, so there was clearly cause for concern regarding the length of time they had before the Nephilim became more powerful than Castiel and Dean’s likelihood of survival.

Sam ran a frustrated hand through his hair. It was exhausting and he was beyond tired. He’d stayed up all night researching after Dean and Castiel had come back from their date and dropped the bombshell. He wanted to have some news to give his brother when he woke up, but all his effects were coming up fruitless. 

Faint voices rose him out of his weighted thoughts. Sounding like they were coming from the direction of the kitchen. Sam hurriedly followed them. 

“I’m fine,” his brother was saying as Sam entered. “In case you’ve forgotten, I chucked up everything I ate yesterday. I’m starving.”

“I appreciate that, Dean, but don’t you think it would be wise to go easy?” Castiel asked, watching in dismay as Dean emptied a large stack of bacon on top of his plate which was already piled high with eggs. “You can’t possibly eat that all.”

“That is him going easy,” Sam chuckled, folding his arms across his chest and relaxing against the door frame as he took in the domesticated scene before him, watching as Dean took his plate to the table to eat with Castiel following close behind as if the Angel was afraid to have too big of a distance between them. “He would usually have twice that.”

“Yeah, see, exactly.” Dean said with an approving nod to his brother, ripping a rasher in half between his teeth. “And I'm eating for two now, right? So doesn’t that make this a quarter of what I should have?”

Dean grinned and tucked in with gusto, as the Angel rolled his eyes, clearly realizing that he now he was outnumbered he was not going to be listened to and choosing not to comment further. 

“And where do you stand on all this?” Dean asked Sam around his heavily loaded mouthful. 

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” Sam replied, taking a seat opposite the couple. “This is your choice, and I’ll support you no matter what.” 

“Don’t tell me what you think I wanna hear,” Dean objected, shaking his head and waving his fork at his younger brother accusingly. 

“Okay,” Sam said. He took a breath, knowing full well that Dean wasn’t going to like what he was about to say. “I think you’re rushing into this without giving it enough thought, if any at all and you’re completely disregarding the consequences. You’ve got no idea what you’re getting into. We know next to nothing about Nephilim and have no clue whatsoever how you got like this or how it’s going to work. It’s highly dangerous, puts your life at risk and could mean that Cas and your kid are still going to be hunted by Heaven for the rest of their lives, yet you don’t seem to have taken any of that into consideration in favor of throwing yourself onto the fire.”

“Well, who asked you?!” Dean glared.

“ **_But_ ** ,” Sam carried on, “Like you said, this baby is family. That’s my niece or nephew you’re carrying... I just don’t want becoming an uncle to cost me my brother.”

“It’s not going to come to that, Sammy” Dean told him confidently. “I’m not going anywhere, because there’s no way I’m gonna leave my kid to be raised by Captain Clueless here,” Dean jerked his head towards Cas, “and you’ll be no better, probably be feeding it homemade kale baby food or something like that, given half the chance.”

Sam laughed, shaking his head in disbelief at how relaxed and casual Dean now seemed to be about the whole situation. It may be false confidence, but it was more favorable that the rage Dean had been in when he had first gotten back to the bunker. He had done a complete one-eighty. Castiel had also shifted gears. Only hours before he had been fixated on terminating the pregnancy that he had gone to the extreme of attempting to do so against Dean’s wishes, now that desperation had switched to desperately needed to protect them both. Sure, the guilt and worry was still there, but at least the two of them weren’t going to be fighting against each other any more.

The bunker held the most extensive collection of supernatural research material in the country and was also heavily warded, which meant that as long as Dean stayed inside, the Nephilim would be hidden from Heaven and if the answer to how he could survive this pregnancy was anywhere on the planet chances were they would find it here. Team Free Will were all on the same page, in the best possible location to pull this off, and while the odds were still stacked very heavily against them, Sam found hope there. With them all working together, towards the same goal there was a chance. It may only be a sliver of a chance, but it was a chance nonetheless.

“Find anything?” Dean asked, nodding to the folder Sam still held.

“Oh, no nothing, yet,” the younger brother replied, “but I’ve barely scratched the surface.”

“Well, we’ve got nearly nine months to figure it out,” Dean reasoned with a shrug, sounding and looking altogether carefree as he tucked back into his mountainous breakfast. 

Sam turned to Cas. “You said there was someone who survived, right?”

Castiel nodded. “The mother of Akobel’s nephilim was very much still alive when he and the Nephilim were executed.”

“Any chance of finding her?” Sam asked the Angel, as he watched Dean from the corner of his eye, as he pushed aside what was left of his breakfast, suddenly looking more than a little uncomfortable. Considering what Castiel was talking about, Sam wasn’t surprised. That was his brother’s Achilles Heel. He'd more than willingly gamble his own life for another, but risking those he cared for, that was a different matter entirely. The Angel informing them that the only human to have survived had still lost both their Angel partner as well as their child would definitely hit Dean where it hurt. 

“It was over a century ago. She wouldn’t still be alive,” Castiel said disappointingly. 

“Could anyone else have known?” Sam asked. “Someone either of them could have told what they did differently. A friend of Akobel’s maybe?”

“Possibly. He was a Seraph in the sixth choir. He may have confided with one of the others, but I would-” Castiel paused, frowning towards Dean as the hunter clutched at his stomach. “Dean, are you alright?”

Dean nodded with a tight jaw, though judging from the concerned looks on both Cas and Sam's faces he failed to convince either of them. 

“Ate too quickly ‘s’all,” he said, trying to reassure them both, while moving his jaw as minimally as possible, hoping his stomach would settle and not prove him wrong. 

But no sooner had the words left his lips when he had to dart from the room with his hand clutched firmly over his mouth before his breakfast could make a reappearance. 

He barely managed to make it to the bathroom in time, before his stomach started purging itself of everything he had just eaten. 

A hand was gently rubbing up and down his spine in an attemptedly soothing manner. He knew that touch, but wished his Angel wasn’t here to witness this. Tossing his cookies wasn’t a spectator sport. 

Watching over him, Castiel did what little he could to comfort the human as he gagged, coughed, partly trying to support his distressed mate and partly trying to alleviate some of his own feelings of guilt. Dean was suffering already, and that was only going to escalate until the inevitable happened and all the Angel could do was watch over him, unable to take away Dean’s sickness, or his fatigue. Castiel had never felt so useless in his long life. 

“I’m sorry, Dean,” the Angel said, as Dean flushed away the mess, sitting back heavily to catch his breath.

“Hey, don’t start that shit again,” Dean said with a frustrated huff, pushing himself off the floor and crossing to the sink to wash out his mouth and clean himself up. He eyed his Angel up in the mirror over his shoulder, not liking the remorseful expression Cas wore. “You gotta let that guilt go, man, or it’s just gonna eat at you. Stop blaming yourself. You didn’t know.” 

“No, I didn’t,” Castiel agreed, “but that doesn’t make this any less because of me.”

Dean spun round, making sure he looked his Angel straight in the eyes and had his full attention. “Listen to me. I got the better end of the deal here, Cas.” There was that confused eyes-squint that he loved. “Sure this is a lot to take in, the throwing up alone ain't no picnic and I get that this is only the beginning and it’s gonna only get harder... But I’d rather take it all on then be in the position you’re in. Having to watch from the sideline sucks ass.” 

For the second time in as many hours the Angel found himself awestruck. There Dean was dealing with everything he was going through and he still took the time to try and bring some comfort and understanding to Castiel. Heat bloomed in the Angel’s chest. His hunter’s selflessness knew no bounds. 

“Dean,” he sighed out, although he had no idea what he wanted to say, only that he wanted to say something to acknowledge what this amazing human was saying. 

“Let me finish,” Dean pleaded, waiting a moment to make sure Cas had actually fallen silent once again. “I know I was angry before. I took it out on you and that wasn’t fair. I lashed out because I was...” Dean sucked in a wavered breath, staring up to the ceiling. He’s never found talking about his feelings easy, but his Angel needed to hear this, because Castiel was beating himself up pretty badly and Dean didn’t want that. He needed them together on this and for that he had to explain. He had to be honest. “...I was scared, Cas,” he finally let out, staring at the small empty space between them. “Hell, I’m still scared...”

He shook his head and forced his eyes up, bringing his gaze up to fall onto his Angel’s who was looking back at him with wrapped attention. “But I’m not blaming you. I never was, not really. So do me a favor, alright, and stop putting this all on yourself, you’re only making it harder than it needs to be and if we’re gonna get through this we all need to be on the same track. Me, you and Sam. That’s not gonna happen with you riding the guilt train.”

Castiel’s head dropped remorsefully. As much as he needed to serve penance for what his mate was currently going through, their lives were now so entwined that Dean would be suffering right there along with him, when he already had enough to bare on his overburdened shoulders. He needed to let go and focus on what was important. Getting his mate and child through this as smoothly for them both as possible. 

When Cas’ chin lifts there’s a new kind of determination shining in those deep blue pools of his. “You’re right,” 

**xXxXxXxXx**

Dean paced the halls in small careful steps, making sure to keep in safe reach of the bathroom should he need it, hoping that he wouldn’t and this round of attempting to keep some of his food down would prove more successful than his other two previous tries that day. It was getting late into the evening and even though his angelicly forced sleep had eaten up the entire morning, he knew that the weariness he’d been experiencing wasn’t going to be kept at bay for too much longer. This meal was his last attempt before he would be forced to turn in for the night. 

So far, it seemed, so good. The nausea was present, but only lingering in the background and missed the mouth watering, stomach rolling insistence it had done previously. 

After a few minutes with no deterioration he dared to risk leaving, making his way into the library, where he was unsurprised to find his brother and Cas still digging through the pile of Nephilim research. 

“You okay?” Sam asked quickly, as Dean joined them at the table, pulling the nearest folder towards him without taking note of precisely what he was reading.

Dean internally rolled his eyes. They had known he was pregnant for less than twenty-four and already the worried looks he was getting from both of them, like he was made of glass and about to break at any moment, was starting to grate his nerves. He was pregnant, not dying... not yet anyway and if they had their way not at all. They needed to have some faith in him. He could do this. They’d been in far tougher situations than having a baby on the way. 

“‘M fine,” he groaned out in a tone that had neither of them questioning him further, yet not believing him either. He kept his eyes on the notes before him, so he wouldn’t have to repeat the statement. They weren’t going to buy it no matter how true it may or may not be. So instead of wasting his time trying to convince them, he focused on the document

“Wow, this guy really liked the sound of his voice.” Dean commented, a handful of silent minutes later, unimpressed with what he was reading. If the morning sickness wasn’t already turning his stomach, what was coming off the pages in front of him surely would. “All bark, no substance.”

“They all read like that,” Sam agreed disheartenedly.

“So we’ve got squat?” 

“No, not squat. We know how Nephilim are created-”

“-Except this one,” Dean interrupted. “That still doesn’t make any sense. Unless you’re telling me one of these pompous dicks shed some light on that.”

“No, but there’s no way they could, is there?” Sam objected. The material he had gathered was only what he’d managed to find so far. There was a good chance that there was more in one of the other store rooms. He for one was not expecting to find all the information they needed in the first file they opened. It was going to take time to weed out the facts they needed from the relevant details. “Besides there’s still more to go through. We’ve barely started.”

Dean gave a resounding sigh and re-focused on the report before him, looking remarkably like a kid forced to do his homework on the first day of spring break. 

“The only place guaranteed to wield answers would be heaven,” Castiel stated bluntly. “But I’m concerned that if I go there for information about Nephilim it could raise suspicions that I have sired one.” The angel turned a soulful gaze at Dean, concern and hesitancy cooling the warmth in the blue. “For a long time they have known of my fondness for you, Dean. It wouldn’t be difficult for them to realize who the human bearer is should they detect a conception. You would be the first suspected.”

“Well, then let's file that option in the ‘not going to happen’ pile then,” Dean told him adamantly.

“Hang on, let’s not be too hasty here,” Sam interjected, rolling his shoulders to lean over the table a little closer to the couple, snapping them out of their staring before it could hock them in completely. “You would only be suspected if they got wind of the pregnancy, right? You said it yourself, Cas, all angels should sense the conception and not even you did. So it’s safe to assume they haven’t either. They would have no idea and as long as Dean stays in the bunker they won’t, so there should be no reason for any of them to suspect.”

“Sam.” Dean’s tone was a warning, his glare coming in for backup.

“No, no, no hear me out. I’m not saying it’s the best plan-”

“-Got that right,” Dean grumbled.

“-and it’s not completely without risk,” Sam carried on despite his brother's interruption. “But we’re running that risk either way and it’s not like Cas is going to go up there and start broadcasting it, the worse they’ll get is suspicious but they won't have proof. What I’m saying is that the potential benefits far outweigh any possible risks and it may be our only chance at finding some real answers.”

“Then we’ll not have the answers!” Dean snapped. “We’ve been in tighter spots than this before and we’ve always found a way without running with our hands out to those asshats.”

“Dean.” 

Dean spun his attention to the Angel by his side, already predicting Cas’ interruption and what he was going to object to. “No, Cas, don’t you dare defend them. Don’t even try that shit, not with me! I’ve seen with my own two eyes the things they’ve done to you and there’s nothing you can say that can excuse that. Nothing!”

Castiel stared at his mate, frowning in confusion at the human's sudden unfounded flip into anger. And not just mere anger, Dean seemed furious. Furious and fearful. Which didn’t add up considering the nature of the conversation. They were debating tactics, considering options, nothing was definite, and yet Dean was reacting as if it was a done deal and Castiel was going to go disappearing to heaven the second the conversation ended. 

“Dean?” the Angel tried again, but Dean wasn’t done, nor was he listening. 

The hunter’s face was reddening as he continued, “I’ve been to hell. I spent 30 years on the rack, ten more in front of it. I know cruelty and what I saw, what they did to you, because you dared to go against their wishes-” Dean shook his head unable to continue with that sentence, “That’s not family, Cas. This is,” he gestured between the three of them. “You need to get that into your head and stop trusting them.”

“Dean, he’s not going to be going up there shouting ‘hey, I’m going to be a father ask me how’.” Sam snapped.

Dean sighed over-dramatically, throwing his hands up in frustration. “I’m the one who’s having the kid, okay? So what I say goes. And I say it’s not happening! End of discussion!”

With that said, Dean threw back his seat, storming from the room with angered steps, his hands fisted by his sides. 

“What the hell was that?” Sam gawped, turning stunned eyes to Castiel for answers. Dean had always had a hot temper that could turn on a dime, but this was something else. “Was that... Is it hormones?” he asked almost hesitantly, not wanting to jump to conclusions, but unable to think of anything else that might explain Dean’s sudden and unwarranted outburst. 

“I think,” Castiel began, just as hesitantly. “I think it may be, but there’s more behind it.” The Angel had suspected for a while, but Dean's outburst confirmed it more fixly in his head. “I need to speak with him.”

Without another word and leaving Sam still wondering, Castiel quickly pulled himself in the direction Dean had disappeared from. He purposefully stroad the hallways, his trench billowing behind him, flapping due to the speed of the Angel’s pace. 

The door to their bedroom was slightly ajar, as if Dean hadn’t taken the time to close it properly...or he’d slammed it, but it hadn’t latched and bounced back open in his wake. Either way it spoke to his mate’s distraction and the wavering breaths the Angel could hear coming from within the room confirmed what Castiel had suspected, and Sam had believed. Hormones were definitely influencing, at least in part, Dean’s behavior. Only an hour earlier the hunter had been shedding joyous tears, but now, after only an angered intermission, the sobs that the Angel could hear certainly did not sound like the happy kind. Castiel was in no doubt that the new hormones starting to seep into Dean’s system, that he had never dealt with before and were completely unfamiliar to the man, may have exaggerated his mate’s moods, but they were in no way the cause of Dean’s outburst.

He silently pushed open the door, peeking inside. Dean was sitting up on the bed, his back braced against the headboard, his palms covering his eyes. 

“Dean?” 

He looked up at the intrusion only long enough to take in Castiel’s expression, before turning away just as quickly and wiping his hidden face on his sleeve. “You can’t go, Cas... You just can’t.” 

The Angel was quick to clamber up the bed to encapsulate Dean in protective arms, pulling the hunter tight to his chest. The sobs quickly subsided, but Castiel kept running soothing hands over his mate until Dean’s breathing slowed and became relaxed. “How many of my memories did you see, Dean?”

Dean tensed immediately, a single breath catching in his throat, like he’s been caught red-handed at the scene of the crime. It’s only a minuscule movement, but the Angel was paying so close attention to the beloved man in his arm that it would be impossible for him to miss. It told Castiel two things; One, he was correct in his assumption and two, Dean had been trying to keep it from him. 

After a long moment, Dean sagged against him, surrendering. “...Too damn many.”

Cas reached up to caress the frown from Dean’s brow, trying to smooth it away with the pad of his thumb. It stubbornly remained, despite Cas’ best efforts. The Angel huffed out a sad sigh. “You know none of that is your fault, Dean?” 

“Isn’t it?” Dean huffed out, to hide his surprise at how easily Cas had read him. He had been more concerned with keeping what he had seen in the Angel’s head to prevent Cas from having to dredge up some painful memories, but deeper down of course he felt responsible. Because he was responsible. Everything he had seen had occurred since Cas had pulled him from hell. None of it would have happened had Dean Winchester not entered his life. 

“No,” Cas told him squarely, sounding so sure, not a hint of doubt or hesitation.

Dean scoffed, loudly. As sincere as Cas sounded, Dean wouldn't believe it, knew that wasn’t the case. His Angel had rebelled from Heaven, was hated by his siblings because he had chosen Dean over them, so whether intentional or not, whether the right thing to do or not, it was Dean's fault, however indirectly. “The other Angels think it is,” he argued.

“Since when do you care about what they think?”

“I don’t,” Dean denies, rushing the words out almost immediately. “But what I do care about is them torturing you when you were cursed and needing help. Or them drilling into your fucking eye, Cas.” 

Castiel flinches, but whether that’s due to the mention of what Naomi did to him or just the hot anger so evident in Dean’s voice, Dean can’t be sure, his voice softens however as he continues, raising his hand to the Angel’s cheek in a gentle touch he hopes that Cas can find some comfort in. “But mostly I care about why you didn’t tell me... I mean you told me that Naomi had been controlling you. I thought it was some brainwashing spell or something... You never said she was taking your memories.”

Cas stayed too quiet while Dean spoke, making him wonder if the Angel even could shed any more light on what had happened to him, then Dean had already seen. If Naomi had taken his memories, then what was left for him to share? How much did Cas remember? How much had been taken from him? Was there even a way to know?

“Before you broke her control over me I wasn’t even fully aware of what she had been doing.”

Dean wanted to ask what Cas meant by he had ‘broken her control’, at the time Cas had said he hadn’t known what had broken Naomi’s hold over him, but he could tell the Angel wasn’t finished, so he stayed quiet, making a mental note to ask after. 

“Afterwards, I started to piece things together. Started to notice gaps in my memory where there shouldn’t have been. She admitted a couple, but there’s more. I know there’s more.”

“How many?” Dean asked warily, unsure if he wanted to know the answer. 

Cas swallowed, his eyes turning distance. “I suspect hundreds.”

Dean could do nothing but stare at the Angel speechlessly. The number seemed too big to be possible, too large to wrap his head around, but despite Cas’ appearance of innocent naivety Dean had to force himself to remember that the Angel had been alive for billions of years. “How many since...”

“-Since you? ... three, that I know of.” 

That seemed like a more manageable number, still three more than Dean would have liked, but a damn sight better than the previous thousands.

“Any chance you could get those memories back?”

Cas shook his head. “I suspect they’re still in there, but to retrieve them would be near impossible. As Angel’s are celestial beings living within a human vessel essentially there are two minds intertwined, one of which exists on two planes of reality simultaneously. Digging through thousands of years of memories to find just one without interfering with any other would be like finding one specific grain of sand in the bottom of the ocean without getting wet. Trying would risk losing more and likely cause more harm than good.”

“I will not return to heaven for answers, unless we need me to,” Castiel told him, sounding like he was trying to pacify him, while still leaving room for negotiation should the need arrive. “Call it a plan-B.”

“Call it plan-Z and you gotta deal.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so so sorry about the how long it's taken me to get this chapter up. I knew it was going to be a tough one, but I wasn't expecting the series finale to put me into such a depressive mood that I didn't see the point in carrying on (no pun intended) with the story at all. The only reason this is even continuing at all is the kind words some of you have left and I also felt awful that I left it on a cliffhanger on the chapter before.   
> Anyone hope everyone is doing better than I am with the end of spn.   
> Much love Fam  
> Take care  
> SGsVamp xXx


	8. One Step Forward

**Chapter Eight**

**One Step Forward**

  
  


In the week since he had found out he was expecting a Nephilim, Dean had learnt precisely one thing about being pregnant, and that was that morning sickness wasn’t so much as a misleading label as it was a blatant lie. Oh the sickness part, that part they got right. It was the morning part that was utter bull crap.

Eyes closed, he leant over the toilet bowl, using the porcelain to cool his clammy forehead and took some slow deep breaths to recover. More than glad that Cas wasn’t here to witness this latest bout. The actual vomiting Dean could cope with, sort of... if he had a choice, because at least afterwards he felt somewhat better. There was a relief to it. But the near constant feeling of nausea, that kicked up at the slightest smell or thought of food and kept just shy of actually throwing up, that part was long past grating on not only his last nerve, but every nerve he had. 

But the worst part of all of it was the worried look he saw on Cas’ face every time he turned down something to eat, that more often than not forced him to give in, only to have to rush to the bathroom moments after. 

He jumped as a soothing hand gently rubbed up his spine. He hadn’t heard Cas come back or enter the bathroom. Too busy trying to settle his sensitive stomach to notice that he was no longer alone.

“You look awful.”

Dean laughed out sarcastically, scoffing the single breath out through his nose, “Thanks Cas... but I think you’re meant to say I’m glowing, or something like that.”

“You’re not glowing, Dean. That’s perspiration.”

“It’s not meant to be taken literally,” Dean whined. “It's a white lie to make me feel better.”

“The only thing that's going to make you feel better is some food in your system. 

“I’ve been trying, Cas. This kid’s not playing fair.”

“I brought you back pie.” 

Dean’s stomach turned . “Uh don’t talk about it.”

“What? Pie?”

Dean groaned, lurching for the toilet bowl again.

**xXxXxXxXx**

“Well?” Sam asked, glancing up hopefully as Castiel strode into the kitchen. “How did it go?”

Cas gave a sad shake of his head, sliding the box containing the baked goods and his last ditch hope of finding something that Dean could stomach, into the trash. 

“Oh no.” Sam's face dropped. Pregnant Dean was bad. Sick and pregnant Dean was worse. But Sick pregnant Dean who’s also denied pie? All hell was going to break loose.

“I’ve tried everything.” Castiel slumped down at the table, looking fully disheartened and hopeless. “All his favorites. Everything he normally eats. They all make him sick,” 

Pie had been his safety net, his guarantee. He’d saved it for last, after he’d tried all the more substantial foods first, only because it wasn’t the most beneficial form of substance. Dean would need more than the sugar rich treat to sustain him. The human body needed a wider selection of nutrients to remain healthy. Proteins, vitamins and so on. Pie alone wouldn’t be a stable diet, especially now that Dean was bearing, but at the back of his mind he knew that if all else failed at least his mate could have some form of nourishment. 

Sam slid over to the fridge and went straight for the drawer he reserved for himself. Pulling out a few items that his brother often referred to as ‘rabbit food’, he offered them to Castiel. “So we give him something he wouldn’t normally eat.” 

**xXxXxXxXx**

“Cucumber? Really?” 

Dean eyed them both as if he was personally offended by the assumption that he, Dean Winchester, would ever willingly consume rabbit food. Which he was, highly offended. He was a hunter, not a hipster. 

“Just try it,” Sam ordered lightly, his done tone making it clear that he was not going to be argued with right now.

He huffed out in annoyance and rolled his eyes. “Alright, fine!”

Dean popped a wafer thin slice in his mouth and chewed, throwing death glares at both of them as they watched him cautiously. He made a big show of swallowing pointedly. “There, happy now?”

“How do you feel?” Cas asked, seemingly on tenterhooks. His eyes flickering over the hunter, searching for any sign of an appearance of the sickness that had barely let up. 

“Come on, Cas,” Dean objected. “This stuff isn’t going to make me sick. It doesn’t taste of anything, it’s crunchy water.”

“Okay, that's good so we know bland foods and things with a crunch doesn’t trigger the sickness.” Sam beamed excitedly.

“Yeah, but come on. I can’t live on this stuff,” Dean argued, tossing another slice into his mouth without even thinking. “I couldn’t even before and now I’m meant to be eating for two.”

“At the moment you’re not even eating for one, Dean,” Cas pointed out sadly. “Are you willing to at least try?”

“I haven’t kept hardly anything down in three days, I’m ready to try just about anything right now.”

“Is there anything that sounds more appealing?” Sam asked, sounding far too eager for Dean’s liking. Stupid hippy was getting far too much pleasure out of this.

Dean pursed his lips and nodded. “Fruit,” he reluctantly admitted, in little doubt that Sam was never going to let him hear the end of it. 

“You’re craving fruit?”

“I’m not sure, maybe... All I know is I’d kill for an O.J right ‘bout now.”

“There’s a farmer’s market just outside- Actually, never mind I’ll take you. I need to get some things myself anyway,” Sam offered, immediately leaving the kitchen to fetch his coat. 

Castiel’s eyes drifted over to Dean hesitating for a moment, torn between leaving the pregnant man for the second time that day and the need to source nourishment for his child and mate. Dean rolled his eyes at the worry there. 

“I’ll be fine, Cas.” Dean said, answering the question the Angel asked without words. Slipping the last few slices of cucumber into his mouth, he gave the Angel a parting kiss. “Go, bring me back something with some actual taste to it,” he grinned with a wink. 

**xXxXxXxXx**

Dean thought it would be nice to have some time in the bunker to himself. Ever since they found out he was pregnant, barely a moment had gone past without either his brother or his overprotective Angel, who had taken his encroachment into Dean’s personal space to a whole new extreme, nearby and usually coddling or fussing over him in one way or another. 

But in reality having the bunker to himself for the first time in a while wasn't the enjoyable experience he had expected it to be. It was too quiet, too vast and too empty. He usually liked that about the bunker. Having grown up mostly in motel rooms, in close quarters with Sam and occasionally their dad, privacy and space to himself was a luxury he was rarely afforded. Then there were those nights when they couldn’t find or afford a motel that were even worse. As much as he adored his Impala with every ounce of his being, she was not built to be a suitable sleeping quarters for two grown men both over six foot tall. It was cramped enough for Dean, god knows how his brother managed to get comfortable enough to sleep, having to contort his ludicrously long stork legs into the back seat. 

By comparison the bunker was the opposite. His own space to do with as he pleases. So Dean more than appreciated the space, the privacy and the home that the bunker had provided him and his younger brother with. He had made the place a home fairly quickly after he and Sam had discovered it. Putting homely touches, laying his claim and mark on the place. 

Maybe it was now that he knew he couldn't leave that made staying in the bunker lose all of its appeal, because now forced to stay inside, choiceless in the matter, the large rooms and labyrinth of hallways seemed imprisoning. 

He was never going to get through nearly nine months of this without something to occupy him. A project that would distract him enough to stave off the ironic cabin fever. 

He chuckles to himself, with an amused shake of his head, as the answer hits him. It’s so obvious. Very soon the bunker was going to be home to another. Their child would need their own space. He needed a nursery.

With fresh purpose speeding his steps, he started his search for the perfect room. It would need to be somewhere nearby, within earshot. Cas may have super hearing but Dean didn’t want to be reliant on the Angel informing him if their baby was in need of anything. 

The closest room to theirs was just around the corner to the right and Dean pushed open the door, flicking on the light. He took in the space with a pondering nod. It was practically identical in shape and size to most of the others in the bunker, with the same drab colors and dated furnishings. 

Obviously it would need a lick of paint to get it out of the sixties and some updated kid suitable furniture, but it could make a suitable nursery. 

“Whadda ya think, little guy, huh?” Dean asked out loud with a downwards glance to his stomach. 

He tries to picture a crib instead of the bed, a changing table and maybe a toy box in the corner, but the more he thinks about it the more he notices there’s something not sitting right about it with him, leaving him a little unsettled at the thought of his kid sleeping here. It takes him a minute to realize why that was. Being the closest to their room also meant that it was the second closest to the main door. Maybe it’s his parenting instincts kicking in that’s making him overprotective of a child that isn’t even born yet, but he wants his baby more secure. 

“Not quite your scene, right? ...Yeah, I agree. Let’s keep looking.” 

He rejects the next few rooms (with nothing wrong with them) before stepping into a room he’d earmarked early on for a ‘Dean-cave’. It’s a larger space than any of the other bedrooms, which was why he’d chosen it. Plenty of room for the la-Z-boy recliners, bar and the Foosball table that he had wanted, but as yet hadn’t acted on, it was barely a work in progress. An old vinyl jukebox stood against the wall, the sole amenity he’d managed to score in his effort into creating his dream ‘Fortress of Dean-a-tude’... he hadn’t figured out the name.

However a bachelor pad wasn’t really a necessity anymore. Sure it would be nice to have a place just to kick back and relax, but a family room seemed more appropriate and much more appealing now that Team Free Will was actually going to be a real family. 

He started mentally re-planning the room. La-Z-boys replaced with large, deep couches, with cushions and throws that could be snuggled into to enjoy family movie night together. The bar was forgotten and the Foosball discarded in favor of a space where legos could be constructed to create an imagined world for tiny green army men. 

The jukebox would be staying though, that part was non-negotiable. 

He was smiling at the image when something on the far wall caught his attention. A baseball sized hole had been forced inwards from behind, leaving a dusting of plaster on the carpet below. That hadn’t been there the last time he had been in this room. Pulling out his phone he used the flashlight to shine light into the gap.

He recognized the room beyond the second the light fell on it. “Son of a bitch,” he exclaimed in a near whisper. If what he suspected was correct, it was perfect. 

Dean hurried from the room to confirm his suspicions, his strides turned to a jog as his excitement grew. He turned one corner than another, going deeper into the bunker, until he found the one room he was looking for.

It was the same disaster zone he had left it in. The old, but still thick due to lack of use, carpet littered with the debris left behind after his fit of rage. He ignored the wreckage, stepping over the toppled furniture to get to the back wall and the hole in it. The same hole, that mirrored exactly from the one in the room he’d just left. The hole that he himself had punched through just over a week ago. 

He had assumed (before he put his fist through one) that most, if not all, of the bunkers walls were solid and load bearing, but this one was only simple ply and with Dean’s knowledge from his time in construction when he had been with Lisa, he could easily adapt it. Combining the two rooms into one larger bedroom for himself and Cas, with a nursery directly off of it. 

It got even better when he threw open the door at the back only to discover a small shower room, where he had been expecting only a simple closet. 

“Think we’ve found a winner, little guy,” Dean smiled, the palm of his right hand grazing over his lower abdomen. 

**xXxXxXxXx**

Castiel turned the single apple over in his hand, assessing its rich red skin from every conceivable angle, searching for any spoilings. Finding none he brought it up to his nose, pressed it tight against his nostrils and inhaled deeply. It had been picked from a tree growing in a serine local orchard, it’s roots entwined with others of its kind. The earth that tree had grown from was enriched with the waste of hoved beasts and both the tree and the fruit it bared was free of the preserving chemicals that so many other human foods were tainted with. 

Satisfied it was good enough for his mate and child, Castiel added it to his basket, before scanning judgmental eyes over the selection, trying to choose another. 

“Cas, can you stop sniffing everything?” Sam whispered through clenched teeth, as he gave an embarrassed smile and nod to a woman who was openingly staring in disapproval at the Angels’ bizarre style of quality control, hoping to wave her off. Thankfully it worked. “People are starting to stare.”

Sam’s surprised they hadn’t been asked to leave already, considering the amount of produce that Castiel had ‘tested’ and rejected for no apparent reason, at least not any Sam could see and he made a mental note to never explain to Dean exactly how his craving foods had been chosen. 

Castiel’s eye roll turned his whole body. He was not going to be judged by a species that peeled off the most beneficial part of a banana before eating it, or tossed away the calcium rich shell of an egg only to cover the inners with grease or bombard it with radiation. Humans may be the superior species on the planet, but when it came to their eating habits they were more behind than the apes they evolved from. So he carried on with his own selection process, but for Sam’s benefit alone he tried to be more discreet about it.

“I wanted to thank you,” Castiel said sincerely, as he ducked his head down to smell a bunch of grapes, trying his best to not be seen doing so. 

“No problem, I was coming here anyway,” Sam muttered, trying not to laugh at the Angel’s attempt at being covert, which was actually looking more suspicious than it had been before. Now he looked like a creepy shoplifting weirdo, instead of just a weirdo. 

“No, I meant for your support,” Castiel said, as he added the grapes to his gatherings, moving on to the next display. “First with Dean and I, and now with the nephilim. I can’t imagine it was easy for you either.” 

“He’s my brother, Cas,” Sam replied casually, waving off the thanks as if it was the most unnecessary thing the Angel could have said. 

“Is that supposed to make your support more or less expected?” Castiel asked, turning insightful eyes up to the taller man. 

The question made Sam pause mid-step. The Angel had a point. There would be many brothers who wouldn’t have reacted as empathetically as Sam had upon finding out that their sibling had been knocked up. A lot would have turned on the boyfriend and blamed them for everything, maybe even violently. For some, family didn’t automatically equal accepting other members' lifestyle choices. Some brothers could have had a problem with Dean choosing a male partner, others (ones in the know) could have objected to Castiel not being human. Even in this day there were some that were homophobic enough to break up a family because of their misguided and backwards views. 

Sam hadn’t and would never do that. Maybe it wasn’t the wife and 2.4 kids life that Sam envisioned whenever he had pictured a perfect life for Dean in the past, if the older Winchester were to ever quit hunting and retire, but in an odd way raising a nephilim child with an angel partner was more suitable. Dean would never have to worry about dragging them into the life, they were a part of it from the beginning, through no fault of his own, and while Dean’s protective nature would force him to want to keep them safe, Castiel was more than capable of holding his own, and from what Sam now understood about nephilim they were very powerful in their own right. So while it may not be a traditional family, it was in every way that Sam could think of better. 

Castiel had been there for Dean - for both of them - every single time. He had more than earned Sam’s trust. Besides Castiel had been family to the both of them for a long time now. Sam could think of no one he’d rather see Dean settle down with than the Angel that Sam himself saw as his own brother, family and best friend also. 

“You make him happy. That’s all the thanks I need,” Sam told him with a brief, but meaningful smile, his hand patting the Angel’s shoulder affectionately. “You’re family, Cas.”

Sam’s words brought a warm chuckle and half smile from the Angel. “Considering when we met I just thought of you as an abomination with demon blood,” Cas said, as casually as if he was discussing the weather. “I have truly grown to appreciate your friendship, Sam.” 

“Thanks, Cas.” Sam said, frowning at the backhanded compliment. “... I think.” 

Castiel didn’t seem to notice, already back to his selection process. The eggplant he chose next failed the sniff test and, being deemed unworthy by its angelic judge, was placed back with the others.

Sam cleared his throat, catching Castiel’s attention, “So, I’ve been meaning to ask,” he started, after a glance around to make sure there wasn’t anyone eavesdropping, but keeping his voice low anyway, as Castiel upending a small punnet of strawberries over the others alongside. “If nephilim become stronger than the angel that fathers them, does that mean that yours and Dean’s will be stronger than most...you know, because you’re a seraph?”

“Seraphs aren’t exactly stronger, Sam,” Cas said absently, more focused on selecting each individual berry carefully than what he was saying. “We just don’t require a connection to heaven to maintain our powers.”

Castiel paused while he considered whether or not to add in some cherries. Would they be too close to the filling of the pie that had made Dean sick? The fresh fruit was a far cry from the tacky pie filling, so it shouldn’t be very similar and he had chosen apples earlier. With a shrug he added seven to the five strawberries and six raspberries, before pursuing over the blueberries next. “With most angels their powers diminish over time the longer they are away from heaven, seraphs powers do not. We are self sufficient.”

“Like a self-charging battery?” 

“In a manner of speaking,” Castiel replied grumpily, not  _ too  _ pleased with the metaphor, but at least it was better than being called a fish. 

Castiel added his pedantic berry medley to the basket, before surveying his gatherings and turning a satisfied grin up to Sam. 

Sam rolled his eyes and, grabbing Castiel by the lapel, dragged the angel off to pay. Even if his brothers hearty appetite returned and eating for two there was no way Dean was going to get through all of that before it turned bad, but he was not about to point out that fact and have to go through another one of Castiel’s screening processes to determine which ones the Angel was going to put back, thank you very much. 

  
  


**xXxXxXxXx**

Dean paused to take a breath and wipe the sweat from his brow. Maybe he should’ve been going easy, but he couldn’t help but be proud of the progress he’d made. He took the moment to bask, a look of pleased contentment settling onto his features. 

The nursery-to-be was completely free from all of the destroyed decor. Turned out that smashed apart furniture was far easier to shift than it would have if it was still intact, and so he had made faster progress than he had expected. All that was left was the smaller splinters and fragments that he had no intention of clearing out just yet, not when he was planning on taking down part of the back wall.

With the room empty, a blank canvas, it was far easier to envision how the nursery would look like once he was finished, but he was not going to start planning, not without Cas’ input, he really wasn’t... but a color scheme of bold primary colors would look great in his opinion. 

He thought about texting Sam, asking him to bring back some paint samples, but he didn’t want to get ahead of himself. There was still a lot of work to do before redecorating could begin. 

Making sure the door to the room alongside, which he’d used to store the furniture that had managed to survive and the mass that hadn’t that would need disposing off, was firmly closed, Dean set off in search of the tools he would need to continue. 

He’s nearly to the library when he heard the familiar sound of the heavy steel front door open. Cas and Sam were back a lot sooner than he had imagined. Even if they’d shopped in record time they shouldn’t be back for another-

He freezes, distinctly hearing three sets of booted feet descending the metal staircase at speed. 

Stealthily peering around the doorway, he confirmed his suspicions. There were three of them, dressed in head to toe in black ops gear. Two of them disappeared through the side doorway at the base of the stairs, while the last stalks out into the library their weapons raised, locked and loaded.

“Fuck,” he mouths silently, pressing back against the wall to keep himself hidden from their view. His hunter's instincts telling him he needed a plan, he needed a weapon, while a more primal side was screaming at him to run and hide. 

His hands patted himself down absently, searching for the knife that he didn’t have on him. Not being able to leave the bunker there had been no need to be carrying.  _ Shit _ , he didn’t even have his phone. He’d left it in the bedroom so it didn’t get broken during the clearance.

He quickly took a second to gather what he knew. Whoever these guys were they clearly weren’t avon calling. They must be human, or angel, or they never would have made it past the warding and they had come prepared. Three against one, and he was unarmed with no means to get to any of the weapons he kept concealed around the place, because the way they had spread at least one of them would be heading in the direction of his bedroom, cutting him off from the stash he kept there, while the other was heading directly to where he was hiding and preventing him from getting to the hidden gun under the library table. The only place left was the secret compartment in the trunk of the Impala. 

He needed to move and move quickly, because the way they were fanning out he was going to be cornered in, but he might be able to lose them in the passageways and circle back to the garage. 

Dean pushed off from the wall, stealthily backing up before turning on his heels and dashing away as quietly as possible. He would have to take a much longer course than the direct route to the garage, but it was his best chance to reach his destination without being caught in a pincer movement. Twisting and turning through the labyrinth of passageways, while trying to calculate where they would have time to get to, trying to keep one step ahead. 

He didn’t even hear the shot before it landed, hitting the wall above his head and showering him with pungent violet duct.

Dean ducked, attempting to keep clear as it settled down over his shoulders and hair, trying to not breath it in. Whatever that dust was it was messing with his coordination and balance. His eyes felt threateningly heavy he stumbled, using the wall to keep himself upright in an attempt to get away. 

He makes it only a handful of paces before his feet refuse to keep up with the rest of him and he goes down, twisted to the side so he doesn't land on his stomach, protecting his baby instinctively.

Black heavy boots stepped into his line of vision before his eyes dropped closed.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to take a quick moment to say the biggest thank you to everyone who messaged their support and understanding. We're all in this together fam and together we'll get through this dark time. Let's prove that 'family don't end in blood'  
> Much love to you all   
> SGsVamp xXx


	9. Over The Hills and Far Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check new tags for trigger warnings

**Chapter Nine**

**Over The Hills and Far Away**

  
  


Castiel stared down the broken white lines in the centre of the road as they washed by, creating an almost hypnotic effect and willed them to move quicker. A confusing and uneasy feeling, that he had never felt before, and couldn't explain, had settled over him as they had left the market. He was almost certain that the cause was he had been away from Dean for too long, because each time he left to run an errand, recently he had been troubled by their distance. This time however it seemed to hit harder, but not linger like it usually did. Now they were heading back to the bunker, back towards Dean, it had lifted almost completely. Still it did leave Castiel musing over its cause. 

“You okay?” Sam asked, turning a fleeting glance to the too-stiff angel riding shotgun alongside him.

Castiel rubbed his palms down his thighs, an unnecessary action since angels do not sweat, but he had picked up in a very mirroring way. “Hmm,” he hummed in an affirming, yet non committal manner, immediately turning back to his wonderings.

Even before the angel had understood the depth of his feelings, Castiel had always sort out Dean’s company, enjoying the warmth and comfort of their time together. Appreciating it all the more when it was just the two of them. Dean always seemed more relaxed and himself, during those times. So this uneasy feeling could very well be an extension of that, heightened with his own misgivings about the delicate nature of the pregnancy and the very real risk it put on Dean’s life. However, another part of him wondered if it was a paternal instinct. Something he, as an angel, should not have, but then he never had conformed to the norm, especially since Dean. 

Nearly all of the hundreds, thousands of nephilim he had encountered in his long years had been abandoned by their celestial parents, who used their offspring mostly as soldiers until they were killed. He had only ever known one exception; one angel that had stayed by their child’s side, raising them like a human parent would. The fact that his mate had also been the only human to have survived the pregnancy gave Castiel some hope that there could be a connection, and that his continued presence by Dean’s side could have the same effect. If only there was a way to know for certain that it had been Akobel that had made the difference, that he had been able to heal his mate after the birth. Unfortunately the most likely source for that information would be one of members of the sixth choir and that was only if Akobel had indeed confided in them, which was unlikely. It would be a long shot and Castiel would need to return to heaven in order to speak to them, which would run the risk of making the other angels suspicious and most importantly, he had promised Dean he would only consider doing that as a last resort. 

“Listen, I’ve been thinking,” Sam asked as they neared home, breaking the Angel out of his musings once again. Castiel turned his head towards him, giving the younger Winchester his full attention. “Is it possible that Dean being Micheal’s true vessel could make any difference with this nephilim? I mean, both are containing grace in some way, right? So could it maybe increase his chances?”

The hopeful tone to Sam’s voice was unmistakable. Dean’s younger brother had worked tirelessly, tearing into every lore he could lay his hands on, barraging the angel with his questions, theories, any possible notion that crossed the man’s mind and Castiel was more than happy to answer. Sam’s help had been invaluable. Castiel paused while he thought how to respond, trying to choose his words carefully, to explain the complex subject as clearly as possible. “True vessels and their bloodline are genetically superior for a specific angel,” Castiel began, “A perfect match, so to speak.”

“Like the Novak line is for you,” Sam commented, he already knew this. He’d seen this with not only Castiel but also when Michael had been unable to get hold of Dean he had gone after their half brother Adam instead. 

“Precisely,” Castiel agreed. “But those vessels are also considered to be stronger generally.”

“By any angel, you mean?” Sam asked.

“Yes. They are naturally stronger and less likely than any other to reject the grace.”

Sam hid a wince. He’d seen just how common it was for a human to not be able to hold an angel after the fall and the angels had been desperately seeking vessels. However, to ‘reject the grace’ was not how he would phrase what had happened. He would say those faithful or gullible enough to choose to be inhabited by an angel had been blown apart. The death toll had been huge. The bodies those angels left in their wake torn apart ‘til there was nothing that left but splattered remains. 

However, now was not the time to argue terminology. Dean being a true vessel might make the difference, could be what gave Dean an edge, a chance. 

“There are humans that are more equipped to handle an Angel’s essence,” Castiel continued, not noticing Sam’s discomfort, “while others cannot contain them at all. True vessels are the favored choice, even when it is not specifically their vessel.”

Sam nodded thoughtfully. It made sense. Both himself and Jimmy Novak were true vessels also, and he had taken on Gadreel, albeit unknowingly, without ramifications, and Castiel’s vessel had been able to contain not only Castiel, but also Lucifer simultaneously without any signs of the deterioration that Lucifer's former vessel Nick had experienced. Sam had no intention of bringing up that last peculiar example however. He knew all too well the trauma that came with sharing your mind and body with the devil, and it was still a very recent event for Castiel.

“So with true vessels being precious commodities they probably have never been used to have nephilim before?” Sam stated questioningly. 

“I have never heard of one, no,” Castiel agreed.

“Could that mean that Dean being a true vessel, even to another, could have made him more likely to accept your grace in the nephilim?” Sam asked quickly to bring the question back on topic. They were nearly back at the bunker and he didn’t want to conclude this conversation with Dean in eyeshot in case he wasn’t going to get the answer he was hoping for. 

Sam didn’t like the way Castiel hesitated and gave a side glance to the angel before turning his eyes back to the road. “Cas?”

“There is a possibility,” Castiel replied. “However, if that is the case it would have also made him more likely to conceive.”

“Oh,” Sam’s brow dipped low, he hadn’t considered that. He slipped the car into park and turned off the engine. “Maybe we don’t mention it to Dean then.” 

“Agreed.” Castiel stated seriously, quickly following suit as Sam exited the car, eager to get the foods to Dean.

“We’re back!” Sam called out as they hit the bottom of the stairs, the pair of the burdened with the supplies they had brought. 

“Dean?” he called again, when his brother hadn’t responded to his first call. The man hadn’t eaten well in days, Sam had almost expected to be practically tackling the second they entered. Instead he and Castiel had made it all the way to the kitchen without being accosted. 

“He’s probably sleeping,” Castiel suggested, as he deposited his overflowing paper bag onto the counter. 

The angel was most likely right. Dean had been overly tired in the last week or so, but lack of calories was only going to make his fatigue worse. Dean could always go back to sleep after he had gotten some much needed food in his system. “Well, wake him up Cas. He needs to eat.”

Castiel nodded, turning to leave, but at the doorway he came to a stop, shuffling his feet as he hesitated on the threshold. 

“What?” Sam turned a curious eye on him.

“He’s an angry sleeper,” Castiel explained sheepishly.

“Just go get him, Cas.” Sam repeated, throwing a bitch face at the angel that had Castiel back on track, heading away to fetch the pregnant man. 

Sam rolled his eyes, shaking his head and chuckling to himself as he started to unpack, unable to believe that Castiel, the fierce warrior of heaven had really hesitated just because of Dean’s morning grouchiness. Okay, it was exaggerated by the pregnancy hormones and without the pacifier that food usually was to take the edge off, and the sickness was only making his irritability worse... 

Okay, fine maybe Castiel had a point. Waking Dean at the moment was about on par with poking a bear with a sharp stick, but it had to be done, and rather by Cas then him. 

Sam poured out a large glass of orange juice, leaving it on the table as he went to prepare a wide assortment of things they had bought to give Dean a better chance of finding something that would pacify his cravings. 

He was just dishing up when Castiel came back with Dean’s phone in his hand and a worried look in his eyes. 

“He’s not here.”

**xXxXxXxXx**

The gently rocking of the firm surface he was lying on woke Dean, but his heavy lids refused to be fully parted. His muscles felt weighed down, his head stuffed with cotton. All the signs of waking from an induced sleep. Whatever those assholes had hit him with, it was clearly mystical and not chemical.

Trying to fight against the effects, his hooded eyes scanned around, he tried to figure out what had happened. Where he was, who these guys were and what the hell they wanted with him.

The first wasn’t hard to deduce, even with his eyes not fully cooperating. He was on his side, his wrists bound, in the back of a moving vehicle, a van with tinted windows and judging by the beam of sunlight shining straight in through the rear window they were heading west. 

_ ‘Extraction Team, Update.’ _

“Package on route, ETA ten-twenty.”

Both the grainy voice on the radio and the man who responded from behind him shared the same British accent and Dean mentally kicked himself. Of course it was the British Men of Letters. Who else could’ve gotten into the bunker. That left the only question; what did they want from him. 

Dean kept himself quiet and still, hoping to hear more. He couldn’t do much else with his body not fully in the land of the living, he only hoped that the effects would wear off before he had an opportunity to act. 

He didn’t have to wait long before his patience was rewarded. 

“Think Weir went overboard sending all three of us for just pretty-boy here,” one of the Brits stated.

A second scoffed loudly. “To hear the yank hunters talk you’d think those two were like some kind of superheros... Wonder what they’d say if they knew this one was bending over for an angel.”

Dean angrily ground his jaw, forcing himself to remain silent. 

“Makes my skin crawl just to think about it.” 

“He’s paying for it now.”

“That’s what you get shagging angels.”

Dean had heard enough. He twisted his hands over so he could clasp them tightly together and kept his voice as low as possible so he wouldn’t be overheard. “Cas, I really hope you can hear me.”

  
  


**xXxXxXxXxXx**

  
  


“ _ Cas, I really hope you can hear me, _ ” 

Castiel froze with a slight gasp as Dean’s voice resound as a prayer through his mind. His sudden stillness alerting the younger Winchester instantly. 

“Cas? What is it?”

Cas held up his hand to silent Sam, stating simply “Dean’s praying,” as an explanation, so he could listen carefully to every word he heard. 

“ _ Don’t know how long I’ve been out for, but here’s the four-one-one. Three of them, British Men of Letter, blacked-out van. They've been steadily heading west, smooth roads, doing about fifty, maybe a bit more. _ ” 

Castiel relayed the information to Sam as it came. Sam immediately opening a map and started calculating speeds, time and distance, trying to gage at least a rough location for where Dean possible whereabouts.

“...  _ Cas, they know about the Nephilim. The bunker must be bugged _ .” 

“Cas? What’s going on?”

Castiel just shook his head. Feeling out with his grace he searched for and found several small devices that were sending sound waves out from within the bunker. Waving his hand across the room

Sam jumped as multiple small bangs, sounding like cherry bombs, went off simultaneously in the close echoing quarters of the bunker. 

“What was that?”

“Dean called them bugs, but they weren't insects, they were listening devices.”

“Okay, so with the speed and the time he was taken and the direction they’re heading Dean should be within this area.”

“He’s there.” Castiel said, jabbing his finger to the map. “Now he’s prayed I can track his location.”

**xXxXxXxXx**

Dean squinted against the harsh sunlight as the sliding door of the van he was in opened.

“Jesus Christ, he’s awake a-” 

The guy never got a chance to finish his sentence as a heavy boot collided into his stomach and forced all the air out of him in one big rush, that left the man coughing for breath. 

Using the momentum of his kick, Dean is up, on his feet. Landing slightly unsteady, without the use of his arms to balance himself due to his cuffed hands. He stumbles as he tries to find the traction on the grit road, before he’s sprinting as fast as he can away from the van and his captors. 

He expected to hear guns being drawn behind him over the crunching of his speeded footfalls and the whistle of his breath, but none came. Not that it would have made any difference. They wouldn’t shoot him, not if they wanted him alive, and clearly they did or he would be dead already. 

He was barely breaching the compound's border when he collided with something solid, throwing him off balance and he landed heavily on his ass. 

“What the hell?” he gasped, staring up at nothing, an invisible barrier blocking his escape. 

Toni Bevell’s smug face appeared upside down in his line of vision. “Well, I guess that answers the question as to whether or not Nephilim are affected by Angel warding.”

“Take him to his cell,” she called over her shoulder. Almost immediately Dean was hauled back to his feet, by strong arms. “If he resists, sedate him.”

Of course he resisted... and got sedated for his troubles.

**xXxXxXxXx**

Sam lowered the binoculars from his eye. “That’s a hell of a lot of security.”

In the passenger seat, Castiel shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “It’s warded. I can feel it.”

“Well, at least we know we’re in the right place.” Sam said trying to find the silver lining in the situation. 

Even with the angel with him, it was too big a risk to try and break Dean out now. They were severely outnumbered, without the Angel able to enter it would be completely impossible. 

“We’re going to need help.”

  
  


**xXxXxXxXx**

Dean blinked groggily at the ceiling above, wondering how it had gone and changed on him, when he’d only closed his eyes for a moment. The air smelt different too, clinical, but fresher somehow. 

Trying to roll over so he could get up before the grogginess had him dozing off again, his shoulder jarrs, as his arm refuses to go with him. Glancing down confused, he found that he’d been restrained to the bed frame by the wrist and ankles with wide padded brown leather cuffs. 

He was dressed in a hospital gown, and judging by the cool breeze wafting between his legs from the AC wasn’t wearing a whole heap underneath. The room he’s woken in resembles a doctors office. A bank of cabinets line the far wall, all white and stainless steel and too pristine. 

“Well, this can’t be good,” he muttered to himself, his voice nearly drowned out by a loud buzz as the door swung open. 

A man in a lab coat strolled inside. His head is bowed, eyes glued to a paper file as he closes the door behind him, the heavy looking electric bolt gives a long beep and the light changes to red. The doctor looked a little older than Dean, maybe mid-forties, he had dark hair, but it’s flecked with gray, giving him a very salt and peppered look. Around his neck hung a stethoscope and clipped to his chest was a laminate showing his photo and a barcode. The I.D must be how they used the heavy security door locks, Dean summarised and made a mental note to pray that information, as well as a warning about the warding, to Cas as soon as he was able. 

“Ah, good you’re awake.” The man smiled. “I’m Doctor Silverman,”

Dean couldn’t help but snort at the irony of the name. “How’s the knee?” 

The Doctor frown slightly, confused, before carrying on, choosing to ignore Dean’s interruption, either not understanding the quote, or not caring to comment. “I’ve been placed in charge of your care while you’re with us. I specialize in non-human inseminations and pregnancies, but a Nephilim is a rarity. I have to tell you I’m very excited.” 

“Well not to burst your bubble Zhivago, but you should know I’m not the best patient. In fact the last time I was strapped down to a medical table against my will, the people in the room didn’t live to see me walk out the door.” Dean paused, letting his words sink in, “and there were three of them.”

“Now, Mr Winchester, there’s no need to be like that,” the doctor said with a weak smile, but Dean didn’t miss the tremble in his voice, or the way his hands shook as he wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Dean’s bicep. “I know you don’t want to be here, but I am just doing my job. Are the threats really necessary?”

“Working for the wrong company if threats bother you McCoy.” The cuff tightened as Dean spoke. “I’d change employers if I were you,”

“So I can assume you’re not going to cooperate?” 

“I dunno, unstrap me and let's find out.” Dean goaded. 

“Look, Mr Winchester,” the doctor started as the cuff was removed, his finding jotted down. “Whether either of us like it or not, I've been placed in charge of your medical well-being for the next few months. We do not have to be at odds with each other and this will be all the easier on everyone, including yourself, if you cooperate.”

“You can ‘good cop’ me all you want, Jekyll, but I don’t play nice with kidnappers,”

“That isn’t my intention. I don’t expect us to be friends, but we are going to be spending a fair amount of time together during this pregnancy and I for one would rather not be fighting each other the entire time.”

“Spare me the easy way or hard way routine,” Dean said, his eyes narrowed trying to see what was on the tray of implements the doctor was fiddling with just out of his line of sight. “We both know you’re wasting your breath.”

“How often has the Angel parent been present?” the doctor asked, pushing a tympanic thermometer into Dean’s ear to take his temperature, 

“Why ya asking? You gonna sort out his child support payments?”

Silverman jotted down his findings. “No, I’m curious as to whether the Angel present makes a difference to the growth rate. Just going to draw some blood.” A tourniquet was twisted around Dean’s left bicep. “Can you make a fist for me?”

Being deliberately difficult, Dean fisted his right hand instead.

Silverman either chose to ignore it, or missed it entirely. “Little pinch,” he warned, before Dean felt the scratch of a needle piercing the vein in the inside of his elbow. 

The Doctor filled three small vials, taking them over to the counter at the far side of the room where he labeled two, setting them aside. 

“Well let's have a look at what’s going on inside shall we?”

Dean internally flinched, before realizing that the piece of apparatus the Doctor was wheeling over to him was an ultrasound machine. His heart fluttered in anticipation. He’d seen them in enough movies to know what it was for, it would let him see Cas’ and his baby. 

Silverman left the machine at Dean’s shoulder and moved round it to lower the head of the bed. Once happy, the Doctor flipped up the edge of the gown, folding it up to Dean’s chest exposing everything from the waist down.

“See anything you like?” Dean goaded, before the scowling doctor draped a small sheet over his upper thighs and hips, covering his privates.

“This may be a little cold,” Silverman gave in warning only a fraction a second before Dean sucked in a startled breath as a cold wetness splat on his stomach.

The doctor picked up one of two different looking wands that hung on the machine, pulling it away to unloop the wire attached. Adding some more gel to the flat head, he pressed it on Dean’s lower abdomen and used it to spread the slicked substance around, before pressing more firmly into Dean’s pubic bone. He pushed around for a minute, twisting the probe while frowning at the screen that Dean couldn’t see. 

Dean pushed his head back into the slightly pillowed head of the medical bed and threw an angry glare at the ceiling. At only three weeks pregnant and only knowing about the nephilim for a third of that time, Dean hadn’t even thought about scans, or if he would even be able to have one. Being a man, he couldn’t exactly book an appointment at an OBGYN. But this was not what he expected the first scan to be like. He shouldn’t be restrained, it shouldn’t be against his will, Cas should be here and he should be able to see the screen also.

“Do you know when you conceived?” Siverman’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

Dean turned his glare to the Doctor instead. Of course he fucking knew. Well, there was no real way to know with absolute certainty, but he and Cas were completely positive that it had happened on their first ever time together three weeks ago and the return of Cas’ handprint mostly confirmed it, but Dean wasn’t about to make the Doctor's life any easier by answering the questions. 

“Is that you didn’t know, or you’re not going to tell me?”

“Take ya pick, Zoidberg.”

“Any pains or rectal bleeding?”

Dean huffed out a humourless laugh as too many snarky responses jumped to mind, “You seriously asking if I have any pains in my ass right now? Come on Kimble, don’t make it too easy for me,”

“Yes, well. There’s nothing showing up.” The doctor said, as he replaced the wand and moved around to the controls of the bed. “So either it’s too early to pick up through the abdomen or you’ve miscarried. If you’re not going to answer any of my questions then I will have to find out for myself.”

Dean’s startled as the feet end of the medical bed start to part and lift. He growls as he fights against it, making the engine whine as it continues to separate and raise, pulling his thighs apart, bending his knees and pushing them out to the side. 

The tendons in Dean’s inner thigh protests against the strain, unable to part any further, when the movement stops and Dean would have let out a relieved sigh were it not for the vulnerable position he was left in. 

The doctor starts pulling on a pair of gloves. “I apologize now, this may be somewhat uncomfortable.”

He picked up a second wand that hung next to the first. This one was longer and thinner, with a slightly bulbous tip. A latex cover was slipped over it. 

The position he had been put in and the way the Doctor was lubing the tool left Dean in little doubt as to exactly where that probe was going. “Touch me with that thing and I’ll shove it down your throat.” 

The Doctor ignored the threat and moved the wand down between his legs where Dean lost sight of it. 

“Three weeks!” Dean gasped out, unable to stop himself as his heart thumped hard in his chest. He did  **_not_ ** want that thing inserted into him. “I got pregnant three weeks ago.”

“And any pain or bleeding?”

“No none.”

“Now that's better isn’t it, Mr Winchester? See you can cooperate,” the Doctor praised, patting Dean’s shin. “Now, take a deep breath, you’re going to feel some pressure.”

“Wait, you’re still going to...”

“Well, now we’ve ruled out a miscarriage I need to check the Nephilims health and growth rate and this is the only way to get an accurate reading this early on. Try to relax.”

Dean clenched as hard as he could, fighting to stop the intrusion, but with the amount of lubrication the Doctor had used he was fighting a losing battle. With a firm steady push the wand slides in smoothly. 

“Deep breaths,”

Dean fisted his hands tightly till his blunt nails dug into his palm, trying to focus on the small pain instead of the movement of the tool as it probed his delicate insides, pushing against the walls as Silverman searched, eyes glued to the screen. 

“That’s the problem with Angels choosing males,” the Doctor complained absently, prodding at Dean’s insides as he twisted the tool, forcing tears that went unnoticed to escape his patient. It was too hard, too deep. “The womb is never in the same - ah, there we are,” The tight pressure increased as the Doctor found what he was searching for and pressed tighter to the area. 

Dean did his best to ignore the discomfort and the humiliation, as his curiosity peaked. He couldn’t help but raise his head, straining his neck to try and catch a glimpse of what was shown on the screen. 

“Would you like to see?” Silverman offered, as soon as he saw Dean vien attempt to view. 

Dean froze, biting his tongue. Of course he wanted to see, but he wasn’t about to admit it. Wasn’t about to give the Doctor anything to use against him. Wasn’t going to show a weakness.

When Dean didn’t reply, the doctor turned the monitor to face him anyway, rotating the machine so both men had a clear view. 

“That dark oval,” Silverman pointed out, “that there is the womb, and there inside, that's your Nephilim.”

It was a strange sensation, seeing the life that was growing inside him. He knew it was there, believe it was, but he hadn’t felt it. Seeing it for himself for the first time... was so different. It made it so much more real. Solidified the realization in his mind and he had to choke down the emotions that flooded through him. Under different circumstances this would have been such a joyful moment and he would have let the happy tears flow as freely as they wanted. He would have held Cas’ hand and beamed at his Angel as they watched their child twitch on the grainy image. But that was a moment he was being denied. A memory that would now never hold the same treasured place in his mind. It had been stolen from him, from them. Cas should be here... Or the pair of them should be elsewhere.

A fist clenched at his heart, distracting him from the burn between his legs and the prodding of the implement. All he could think about was the tiny being on the fuzzy monitor screen. 

Staring at the little deformed bean, completely overwhelmed with emotions, the words slipped out before Dean even realised. “Is it healthy?” 

“Everything looks as expected. Good thick lining. Amniotic liquid is clear. The surrounding area doesn’t seem to be inflamed or swollen. Looks like your body is handling the changes very well. If you can hold as still as possible for me while I take some measurements we’ll be all done here.”

“Shouldn’t we hear a heartbeat?”

“It’s too early for that. I would say you’re at about four to four and a half weeks along. We’ll try again in a few days. See if we can get a more accurate due date, but I would say, barring complications, we should expect the Nephilim arrival at mid September,”

The pressure vanished along with the image on the screen as the Doctor removed the probe, wiping up the mess left as he went. But neither sensations registered to Dean, one thought dominating his mind. He didn’t know a whole heap about pregnancies, but he knew that it took nine months, which meant the baby was due in December and not September. And that was ignoring the fact that he couldn’t be four weeks along as he and Cas had only slept together for the first time three weeks ago.

“That’s only four months away,”

“Nephilim gestation is twenty-three weeks.” The Doctor told him, matter-of-factly, lowering Dean’s knees back down. 

Once Dean was in a much more comfortable position, Silverman placed a comforting hand on his shin. “Now, Mr Winchester, we’re going to be having many more of these check ups over the next few months and while they can be done under sedation it is not ideal. So what do you say to us working together for the sake of your Nephilim in there hmm?”

“You know what Doc,” Dean said, his bottom lip jutting out as he mused over the man's suggestion with a thoughtful nod. He looked up innocently, “Bite me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always please let me know your thoughts. Your insights really do help me, keep me focused and on carrying on  
> Wishing all the SPN Fam a happy Holidays   
> SGsVamp xXx


	10. Patience

**Chapter Ten**

**Patience**

Dean's teeth chattered, in a way that had nothing to do with being cold. Hesitantly, he opened his eyes and took in the cell he had woken up in. Despite his nerves, the room was definitely the lesser of two evils, if he had to choose... 

As if he had a choice. 

The cell - that he had woken up in many times before - may have reeked of isolation and depression, with it’s cold metal walls, steel cot and fitted toilet facilities, but at least it wasn’t the doctor's lab. For the most part, the worst that had happened in there was boredom, with only his own troubled thoughts for company, while he recovered from whatever the Doctor had last put him through.

With nervous hands he wiped at his face and patted down his torso. No tubes, no restraints. He sighed out a relieved breath. It was the best he could hope for all things considered.

He swung his legs over the edge of the metal cot with the lumpy thin mattress and padded to the facilities to empty his protesting bladder. A pointedly placed sample cup stared up at him from on top of the system. Reluctantly he snatched it up, popped off the lid and filled it as he relieved himself. He hated that he was complying, but after he refused to give the first sample it had been taken via a catheter. Since then he had taken the opportunity to give it himself whenever it presented itself. He’d had that probe up his butt often enough, the least he could do was prevent his dick from getting put through the same treatment. 

He had stopped trying to guess how long he had been in this godforsaken place. There was no real way to judge the passing of time. He had been sedated often, with no way of knowing how long that sedation had lasted and there were no windows in either of the rooms he’d seen in this place, so he couldn't even track the passing of the days and nights. 

He only knew that it had to have been at least a week, if the amount of meals he had been given was anything to go by. 

‘ _Meals, ha!_ ’ He scoffed at the thought. 

After his first had made an abrupt and messy reappearance, the masochistic doctor had deemed it necessary that he was fed ‘by other means’. He hadn’t known what that had meant, until he had woken with a tube taped to his cheek. He’d only had the chance to rip that thing out of his nostril once. After that, every one of his ‘feedings’ had been done while he was unconscious, Dean only being aware of it after the event because he woke with a tender throat and a full belly. 

Still he was at least grateful that he had been out of it for that procedure, he hadn't been so lucky for some of the others. Dean’s sure by now he’s had enough blood taken to fill a small bath.

He’d been poked, palpitated, probed, scanned, swabbed, every possible check and test the doc could think of. Some Dean suspected he had just made up, there was no way for Dean to know for sure, he wasn't a doctor, but he was sure that there were animals in cosmetic labs that got less attention. By this point, Dean was convinced that the only reason they didn’t leave him strapped down on that medical table twenty-four-seven, sedating him as and when they needed, was simply because they didn’t want to have to deal with bed sores. 

The times he woke in this cell were a reprieve, a break, but one he knew wouldn’t last. Soon he would be back on that table for whatever the Doctor had thought up next. 

The thought left his blood running cold in his veins. Dean didn't get scared; he had spent thirty long painful years on Alistair's rack, he knew the true meaning of ongoing torment. These British asshats could do their worse, but they didn't have a hope in Hell (no pun intended) of breaking the hunter. He wasn't scared for himself, but his hands clamped protectively over his lower abdomen. 

The life growing inside of him, his and Cas’ unborn child, he was scared for. 

Despite Dr. Silvermans' nice guy routine and promises that he was only concerned with Dean’s and the baby's health, Dean hadn’t bought into the act for one second. He knew the Men of Letters had very archaic and basic views on the supernatural; Humans good, everything else bad. It was black and white to them, there was no gray area. They had no worries whether his and Cas’ baby lived or died. Hell, they’d probably prefer it didn’t. They only cared about the study of them both while they could. He wasn’t stupid, he knew this wasn’t going to end with them congratulating him on the birth of his child and sending him home with a fruit basket. 

“You hang on in there little guy, okay?" Dean's voice cracked as he spoke, whispering softly with his head bowed as he petted his palm across his stomach. "We'll get out of this. They won't leave us here. Your Uncle... he’s the best hunter I know, so smart and resourceful. If there’s a way he’ll find it, and if not he’ll damn well figure one out. And your Father,” Dean let out a single laugh through his nose, “let’s just say, getting me out of hell is something he’s familiar with... So don’t you worry little guy, huh?” 

A faint sob escaped him, as his hand clutched a little tighter. “...Don’t you worry.”

**xXxXxXxXx**

Castiel used to have patience that would make the holiest of Saints jealous, even if envy was considered a sin. When time went on for as long as it had for him, the smaller amounts of it had held little to no meaning for the Angel. He’d waited thousands of years through the evolution of man, just to see whether it would be homospapiens or homoerectus that would survive. He’d waited for wars, for apocalypses, without concern or anxiety. He’d be perfectly content to wait quietly, barely moving, for hours, days on end. 

But that was before. 

Before his mate, his pregnant mate had been abducted from their home. Since then every hour, every minute, every single painful moment he noticed with precision accuracy. 

In the ten days, eighteen hours and twenty-seven minutes since he had discovered Dean had been taken, Castiel’s uneasy feeling (that had mostly vanished when they got back to the bunker and he had assumed his mate), had returned intermittently. Growing from an irritating mosquito bite, steadily worsening the longer he was parted and had now grown to unignorable levels and plagued his near every thought. 

It wasn't that Dean had been stolen away from him, it wasn’t just Dean, it wasn’t just the man he loved, the man he’d given everything for, the man he’d fallen for, it was Castiel’s everything. His mate, his child and the loss felt like a part of Castiel himself.

“What can I get ya?” 

Castiel’s head raised slowly to find the bartender who had spoken. She had kind eyes and wore a feign smile, as she wiped her hands on a rag dirtier than her skin was, making Castiel wonder what was the purpose of doing so. “Excuse me?”

“Can I get you anything?” The woman repeated, speaking more slowly, looking at him curiously as if she was trying gauge if he was drunk or simply distracted.

“No,” Castiel said bluntly, returning to staring at the bar top. 

“Can’t let you just sit there without buying anything.”

“Yes, then.” Castiel snapped curtly. 

“Anything in particular?”

“No.” 

It made no difference to the angel. He would probably be able to consume everything on display behind the bar and still feel little to no effects. 

“Oh-kay.” she droned out slowly, raising her brows, before sliding away. 

The bar he was being forced to wait in was a little run-down, but was busy. Lots of people gathered in small groups of two or three, a few propped up the bar drinking solo. A low rumble of intertwined conversations that drowned out over the melody that was playing slightly out of sinc from the singer on the television high behind the bar. Despite the noise people mostly were going about their own business, keeping to themselves and leaving him alone. Castiel was grateful for the peace. Human interaction would only serve to distract him from his thoughts right now, and as troublesome as his thoughts were at present he could not bear to lose focus on them. He couldn’t risk missing a prayer from Dean. 

Since Dean’s first prayer, only one other had come through. The same as the first, it had been focused heavily on the details of the situation, describing the security measures of the compound and the warding surrounding it, as well as the effect the warding had had on Dean himself due to the nephilim. Dean’s insight had allowed Sam and Castiel to formulate a plan for his rescue, but the stoic tone to the prayers concerned Castiel more than any security measures would.

Dean hadn’t mentioned anything about either his or their nephilims wellbeing. Dean was closed off, which, knowing Dean’s nature, told Castiel one thing. 

Like the Angel himself, Dean was not coping well. 

“You look like you could use the good stuff.” The bartender was back, interrupting his broadening to place a tumbler half full of amber liquid on a napkin in front of him. Her smile seemed more genuine and laced with sympathy, though she didn’t linger before leaving him alone once more. 

Castiel’s fingers closed around the glass as he slowly rotated it over the smooth surface of the bar, his eyes hypnotically focused on the bronze depths within. If their roles had been reversed Dean may have been grateful for the drink in this dark time and oddly Castiel found some small comfort in the tiny connection, a small subtle link to the hunter he was missing past the point of being unbearable. 

Sam was feeling the loss too, that was as clear as polished glass to the angel. The young man had barely slept, only taking the chance to while waiting for one of the hunters to return his calls, but what little he managed to grab abruptly ended the moment a ringtone sounded. Eating was done over notes and records and any other necessity was done rushed, if at all. 

Ten days, eighteen hours and thirty-two minutes. Time was passing both far too quickly while all too slowly for Castiel. The plan for Dean’s rescue, while simplistic in outlining proved far more troublesome in execution and had eaten up far too much of both his and Sam’s time. While Castiel had focused his efforts on a way to counter the warding in order to get Dean free, Sam had begun tracking down other hunters that might be able and willing to aid them and increase their numbers and therefore their chances. Both had proven more problematic than was ideal. 

The hunters were scattered all over the country, some days of travel away, even if they could be freed up from their work instantly, which was unlikely. Most changed their contact numbers frequently to avoid brushes with the law, so it was a chase tracking them down in the first place, and those who Sam managed to contact had others that they might be able to enlist. Good for their numbers, but bad for the length of time it was taking to round up a group sizable enough to take on the British. 

Sam’s pursuit for manpower may be time consuming, but at least it was starting to wield results, albeit slowly, Castiel’s search on the other hand had been infuriatingly tedious and strewn with deadends. Ways to get an angel through a warding that was specifically designed to keep them out seemed to be rarer than a demon in Heaven. Those that would work for an unborn nephilim also were rarer still, but Castiel soldiered on through his seemingly fruitless searching. He only needed one. 

Days seemingly disappearing while he searched, time rushing past like it was taking the opportunity to keep Castiel and Dean parted as long as possible, all the while Dean was held captive and while the angel had no clue as to what precisely the pregnant man was being subjugated to, Dean’s deafening silence on the matter spoke volumes. Whatever was happening to Dean, Castiel knew it wasn’t pleasant. 

Eventually he had found a way. A charm that could be infused with grace to ‘hide’ that angel from the warding. Since their nephilim shared Castiel’s grace he was certain it would work for their baby also. Sourcing that charm however had come with its own set of problems, which was why Castiel now found himself doing the last thing he wanted to do while Dean was undoubtedly suffering.

Waiting. 

Waiting was when the time that had been so determined to speed past, slowed down to a snail's pace. Highlighting the pain and longing from Dean’s absence all too brightly for the Angel. It was making him itch and angry. He was pretty sure the only reason he wasn’t at the British Men of Letters compound right that second, trying to tear through the warding to get to his mate, was because the rational side of his mind knew that would only serve to put Dean at greater risk and would also tip the British off that they were completely aware of their temporary base’s location and cost them their element of surprise in the long run. He had to force himself to remember and focus on that if they were to have any chance of getting Dean freed. It has to be one strike, one that the British would never see coming. 

“You're late,” Castiel griped, as the witch slid gracefully onto the bar stool next to him. 

“Nice to see you too,” Rowena replied sarcastically to Castiel's tortness, a small smile gracing her perfectly painted lips that matched the shade of the evening gown that stood out in the dank bar like a perfectly manicured sore thumb. 

“Did you bring it?”

“Skipping the foreplay and getting straight down to business I see” she said disapprovingly, with a raised brow. “Honestly Castiel, don’t you know a lady likes to be wooed before she gives up the goods. If you’re going to skip the small talk you could at the very least buy me a drink first.” 

Castiel let out a silent sigh of frustration and slid his drink in front of Rowena. Waiting patiently a whole three seconds before repeating, “did you bring it?”

“Of course I did,” she tutted. “I wouldn’t come traipsing halfway across the country for nothing now would I? Don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what you need it for.”

“It’s safer for you if you don’t know,” Castiel responded immediately. 

Rowena could be a very powerful ally, and it would be in her own interest of self preservation if she were to assist them as the British Men of letters had been going after witches, however he and Sam had agreed from the start of their planning that the fewer people who knew about the nephilim the safer it would be for everyone. It would only take one well meaning but misplaced prayer for heaven to discover that Dean was pregnant. So while they needed all the help they could get and in this fight, those who did join them would be kept in the dark about that particular detail of the rescue. 

As much as Castiel wanted to trust in the good he had seen in Rowena more recently, in the past the witch had proven herself power hungry and more than capable of double crossing others if there was something for her to gain. If she found out about the nephilim she may seek it for her own purposes, as there were many powerful spells that required a nephilim in some way. So it had been decided very early on that while Rowena was needed in sourcing the charm from the wiccan blackmarket, that was where her involvement would cease. Castiel wouldn’t risk endangering his child for one more ally, no matter how powerful that ally may be. 

Rowena leaned closer, placing a troubled hand on his forearm. She kept her voice low, but seeped in worry as she fixed the angel with a pointed look. “Just promise me, that if this has anything to do with that twisted brother of yours, he will never know that it was me you got it from.”

“It has nothing to do with Lucifer,” Castiel was quick to reassure her, grateful that was the assumption Rowena had jumped to. It meant he wouldn’t have to lie in order to protect his child. 

Rowena eyed him critically for a long second, skepticism etched deep in her features, before eventually deciding that he was being truthful and reaching into her bag, pulled out a small pouch. 

She handed it over gently, her tone turning gravely serious. “This is extremely rare and volatile magic, Castiel,” she warned. “I’ve left instructions inside. You have to make sure you follow them to the letter. There won’t be any do overs if you do it incorrectly.”

“I understand,” Castiel nodded, eagerly taking it with careful hands. 

"I shouldn’t need to stress how difficult this was to come by, getting another would be near impossible. Once imbued it cannot be undone or transferred. So this is a one time only deal. Once in. Once out. That's all you get.” 

“That’s all I need.”

**xXxXxXxXx**

  
  
  


Sam was pacing a grove in the war room floor when Castiel got back to the bunker. His phone pressed tight to his ear as he listened intently, but he looked up as the angel entered, mouthing “did you get it?” silently, as Castiel trudged down the staircase, heavily surveying the evidence of Sam’s manhunt strewn over the table.

Castiel nodded in affirmation, pulling out the punch that housed the precious crystal that was crucial to their plans to rescue Dean from his inner pocket, carefully placing it on the table alongside Sam’s papers. 

Leaning over the littered surface, Cas waited for Sam to finish his latest phone call with as much patience as he could muster. His part of the plan (minus the spell to infuse his grace to the charm) was complete. It made waiting for all the other parts to fall into place all the more frustrating. 

Eleven days, five hours and twenty-six minutes, but at least there was hope on the horizon. An end in sight. 

Sam had been busy since he had left, following through on the hunters side of their preparations. Lists of names and various contact information dotted the surface, most in Sam’s or Dean’s handwriting, but John Winchester’s diary was also laid open on a page depicting similar lists of names and numbers. 

Worryingly most were crossed out. 

Even if everyone of those remaining assisted, they would still be outnumbered, but they would have the element of surprise on their side. With the warding Dean had warned them about the men of Letter would not be expecting Castiel to be able to get in. That gave them an advantage that the British would not have anticipated. 

“No I understand. Family has to come first... Thanks Garth, I appreciate that.” Sam placed down his phone, finding Castiel waiting, eyes fixed on his expectantly. “They went after Garth and his family. He’s had to go into hiding to keep them safe,” Sam explained, “so he won’t be able to come, but he’s gonna make some calls, see if he can find anyone else who’d be willing to help.”

Castiel nodded in understanding. Not even a father himself yet and already he understood the lengths one would go to to protect their family. By keeping Dean and their nephilim hidden away in the bunker, shielded from heaven’s sights and protecting them from the laws that would see all three of them dead, he was taking similar actions himself and would expect no less from the hunter turned werewolf. 

Both wished they were shocked by the revelation, but neither were. The British Men of Letters intolerance to anything that didn’t fit their superficial ideals was starting to show very clearly more recently. Maybe it had always been there just hidden below the surface. Now it was too obvious to deny. The British counterparts of the men and women that build their home, Sam and Dean's ancestor, could be so narrow-mindedly hate driven. To them any being that didn’t fit their ideals were bad and needed to be killed, with no exceptions. Even those that had turned, yet maintained their human nature, like Garth and his werewolf family, were still placed in the monster category. 

Castiel’s first encounter had left him stripped of his powers, but Lady Bevell had only attempted to incapacitate him, or banish him. He knew he wouldn’t be afforded the same luxury again. They knew who he was and he wasn’t going to give them the chance to make precautions.

He took back up the charm and striding from the room towards the medical bay he called to Sam over his shoulder. 

“I will need your assistance with the extraction.”

  
  


**xXxXxXxXx**

Getting to sleep was proving impossible.

It wasn’t that the bed was uncomfortable, Dean had slept in far worse with no problems. Throughout his hunters life he had trained himself to be able to fall asleep at the drop of a hat, getting his required four hours whenever he could. Hell, he could probably sleep standing up if he needed to. 

It wasn’t the closed in and watched feeling he got in the cell, he had always managed to get the rest he needed while remaining on high alert before. 

It wasn’t even that the amount of times he had been drugged into unconsciousness since his kidnapping meant that getting some natural sleep wasn’t necessary. The pregnancy induced fatigue had meant that he was pretty much in a permanent state of exhaustion, despite the amount of sedatives forced into his system. 

He punched his paperthin pillow, barely resisting the urge to scream into it in frustration and slammed his head back down. He just wanted a small escape from his reality, even if it was only for a short while and a dream was the best he was gonna get... Or not get, as the case was proving to be. 

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Dean knew the reason behind his inability to drift off to dreamland, or believed he did at least. Maybe it was the pregnancy making him needy. Maybe it was that Cas had spoiled him since they had gotten together. Always staying close while Dean had slumbered, despite the angel having no need for sleep himself. 

Whatever the cause, Dean now couldn’t sleep without his Angel. 

Even long before he and Cas had gotten together Cas had said that he would watch over Dean when the hunter slept. Dean had rejected the offer, telling Cas that it wasn’t going to happen and that he found it creepy, because having some dude standing over you, staring at you while you were completely unaware was downright creepy, but oddly there had also been some level of comfort to knowing that someone was watching his back when his eyes were shut and his mind was off. Not that he had ever told Cas that, but it was true nonetheless. Even when Cas hadn't physically been there with him, Dean had felt his presence. It hadn’t been all the time, but on those occasions when it had, he felt like his mothers promise that ‘angels were watching over’ him was actually true. 

In this hellhole however, Dean didn’t feel that presence, he only felt lost, like a physical fist clutching in his chest. 

Giving up with a deep sigh, Dean eased himself upright with a sharp hiss. Despite the give of the cot’s lumpy mattress, sitting still made him wince. Highlighting another pain that he was trying not to recognize. He doesn’t need the reminder, doesn’t want to think about the cause of the soreness he felt. Doesn’t want to remember how vulnerable and on display he had felt with his wrist restrained and legs strapped to stirrups that forced his thighs apart. Doesn’t want to remember the pain of the stretch of the specileum that seemed to open him too far past the point of his endurance. Didn’t want to think about the stab to his insides as the sample had been taken. 

“Can’t sleep?”

Dean glanced over to the viewing window that the asshats hadn’t even tried to disguise as a mirror, just left it clear for anyone to look in on him, like a fish in a bowl, as they passed by. 

His eyes narrowed to a glare as he saw who was looking in at him this time. He hadn’t seen her since he had first arrived, and he would have been happy to have not seen Toni Bevell’s smug face ever again. 

“I would offer you something to help with that,” Toni continued, “but Silverman wants you lucid for your procedure tomorrow.”

Dean ignored her goading. Nothing could be worse than the sample the Doc had taken from his - he wasn’t going to call it a cervix, no matter what the Doctor claimed. 

“Weren’t you sent back to the motherland for a time out?” Dean stated, hoping the numb tone to his voice would be enough to mask what he was actually feeling. 

“Things change,” Toni stated, with a nonchalant shrug. “Thanks to all of you heathens refusing to see reason, they’ve realized that I was right all along. I knew you American’s would be more trouble than you’re worth and you’ve all proved me correct.”

“Glad we could help,” Dean said with a sarcastic nod, turning his back on the woman. 

“Oh you have believe me,” she said with a proud half grin tugging up the corner of her lips. “I said that when the rats refuse to be trained, you don’t keep trying... you call an exterminator.”

Dean fought to hide the shiver that ran through his body as all the blood in his veins seemed to turn to ice. He didn’t want to believe what he was hearing. The British Men of Letters were dicks that much was apparent right from the beginning, but this was something else entirely. This wasn’t not being able to recognize that it was as possible to have good monsters as it was to have bad people. This was murdering good people simply because they refused to be controlled. 

“You keep one for the lab of course,” she added, glancing from Dean’s too stunned to speak face to his abdomen. 

“You can’t,” the words came out of Dean’s mouth without his consent. Too stunned to school his tremble and hide his fear, or to stop his arm closing around his stomach, protecting it from her intrusive stare.

“Oh we can,” she corrected almost cheerily. “We already are. Troops were deployed a few hours ago. All of the American hunters will be annihilated... and, of course, those with ties to them.”

Dean’s stomach turned to lead and he tried to school his features into a neutral expression as what little was left of his color drained from his face. The bunker wasn’t the safehaven against the British Men of Letters that it was against the supernatural. They had effortlessly gotten in before. Sam and Cas would have a false sense of security, believing they were completely safe within the bunkers walls. They would be sitting ducks.

“You won’t be here to see it of course.” she continued despite the look of absolute horror that had drained all the color from Dean’s face. “As soon as Silverman gives you the all clear to travel you will be transported back to England.”

“You kill Cas, you’ll kill the nephilim,” Dean stated in desperation, making it sound as truthful as possible. It was a complete fabrication, a long shot and he knew it, but it was the only bargaining chip he had to play. If she bought the lie, there was a chance. They wanted the nephilim alive, for now a least and maybe only for study, but they wanted it nonetheless. 

Bevell leaned closer to the glass divide and smiled cruelly. “I don’t have a problem with that.”

She turned and walked slowly away with a smirk on her smug face, while Dean’s rage induced cussing and useless banging on the cell divide, faded behind her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So so so sorry for the long delay on getting this chapter up. It was a battle and I've lost count on how many times it has been re-written now. Your comments and support and knowing that people are waiting got me through it and stopped me tossing in the towel.  
> Thank you xXx


	11. Fight fire With Fire

**Chapter Eleven**

**Fight Fire With Fire**

The bang of the heavy metal door hitting the interior wall echoed loudly through the silently still bunker and a mass of men, in full black-ops gear, filed inside. They poured down the staircase and spewed into the heart of the Winchester’s homestead, their raised automatic weapons pulled tight to the ball of their shoulders, the bullets inside scored with Enochian, ready and able to wipe out human and angel alike.

Their mission - Annihilation. No one was to be left alive. 

**xXxXxXxXx**

Nearly four-hundred miles away in Sioux Falls, Castiel finished the last of the sigils and hung the picture frame back on the wall to cover it. 

From an outsider's perspective the Mill’s residence would appear like a nice family home of the local Sheriff and her two adopted teenage girls. No signs of any of the symbols Castiel had added to Jody’s already impressive collection, that the angel had felt necessary to protect the human inhabitants. 

Dean’s frantic prayer of warning had come to Castiel shortly after he and Sam had already arrived at Jody’s home and the angel had immediately sprung into action. Taking measures to guard against the possible attack and doing what he could to distract himself from the pained panic he had heard in Dean’s voice, that made him want to rush to his mate's side immediately. 

The freshly grace infused charm had been burning a hole in the inner pocket of his trench coat and made waiting all the more infuriating for the Angel. There was nothing to stop him getting to Dean. 

Castiel took a deep breath and forced himself to remember the plan wouldn’t work with just him alone. Dean would be safer in the long run if everyone banded together and put on a united front against the British. He had waited eleven days, twenty hours and eighteen minutes, he could wait a little longer for the humans to gather and prepare.

“Looks good,” Sam praised, coming up behind Castiel and clapping him on the shoulder approvingly. “Should keep us all off their radar.”

Castiel hummed deeply in agreement and turned to survey the organised chaos that had taken over the home since their arrival.

Jody and Alex flitted back and forth from the bedrooms with comforters, pillows and blankets to create make-shifts beds for the men and women assembled. Three hunters that Castiel had been introduced to, Randy, Elvis and Bucky, were sat leant over the coffee table, checking the gathered assortments of guns and other weaponry, taking time to clean and oil where needed. Another, Asa was busying himself in the co-joining kitchen, which he seemed very familiar with as he stirred at the contents of a large stock pot of chilli, which he had claimed was a family recipe, while chatting idly with Claire who sat sulkily on the countertop with her arms folded. 

Six hunters (Jody had forbidden the young girls from going, much to Alex’s delight and Claire's annoyance) and one Angel. It was not the largest number to launch an assault with, but he had taken on more powerful foes with smaller numbers, and there were still five more hunters, as well as the group Garth’s had sent, who were on their way. 

“How ya feeling?” Sam asked, gesturing to Castiel’s neck that the angel had been rubbing absently at without noticing. “You okay?”

Castiel nodding reassuringly. Though the grace extraction had been a grueling experience, he imagined it had been a lot less painful for an angel, who was full of grace, than scrapping out what little remained from a former vessel. Yet it had still stung quite intensely and the slight throb remained even hours later. However, the pain was a small price to pay and was more than worth it to gain the key to getting Dean and their nephilim free. 

“I’m fine, Sam,” the angel replied dismissively.

“Don’t suppose there’s any chance of talking you out of this,” Sam asked quietly, fixing the angel in an expression Castiel had heard Dean refer to as his ‘puppy-dog eyes’. 

The angel knew the man’s concerns, he had stated them often enough, but they were futile. There was no other option they had at this time and Castiel didn’t want to change their plans and delay getting Dean back any further. Regardless of the cost, getting Dean out was the top priority and the hunter’s addition to the plan would prevent the British ever coming after them again. 

“We’ve been over this, Sam,” Castiel stated wearily. “No one else can get it in. Besides, the warding tells us that they are expecting a rescue attempt, but won’t be expecting me. It gives us an advantage that they won’t see-” 

The lights started flickering erratically. A signal that their protection spell was working and a warning that someone had crossed the perimeter and was approaching the house.

Everyone tensed on high alert. Sam crossed to the window in three long strides, as the other hunters readied themselves for a possible attack; Asa wiped his hands and pulled a gun from his waistband, Claire hopped down onto the floor, tensed but ready, Castiel’s angel-blade slide out from his sleeve into his grasp, as Jody and Alex rushed back into the room.

Sam pulled at the blinds enough to peek through to the front yard, relaxed and, giving the nod to signal the all clear to Bucky who was posed by the front door, stowed his weapon.

The door was pulled open and Donna’s bright smile lit the room before she’d even stepped inside. 

  
  


**xXxXxXxXx**

Sam glanced around Jody’s packed living room and couldn’t help but still be impressed with the amount that had turned up. Most hunters religiously worked solo, or duo maximum. Very occasionally they would team up if more than one had gone for the same hunt, or for something more troublesome that would need more hands to clear and they knew other hunters in the area, but it was far from the norm. 

It was extremely rare, if not unheard of, to have a group this size willing to work with each other, but to have them teaming up with the supernatural that they normally hunted, willing to fight side-by-side with non-humans was another thing entirely. 

Shortly after Donna had arrived, bringing with her a large box of ‘embracing the cop stereotype’ donuts, four more hunters had arrived staggerly. Wally had been the first, with much ribbing and banter from the other hunters about him following his stomach. Jerry arrived shortly after that, and then, much to Sam’s dismay so had Roy and Walt. Sam hadn’t been expecting them, but it seemed that despite the pair's fierce dislike of the Winchesters, they were willing to put aside their differences against the British Men of letters. 

But the biggest shock had come about half an hour after Asa’s chilli and Donna's donuts had been polished off, when the large group had been washing down their meal with a beer and swapping tales. Castiel’s sigils had signaled someone had crossed their boundary and Sam had been stunned to peek out only to see Jim Myers striding confidently towards the house, followed by six others on his heels. He knew Garth had sent a group, but he hadn’t expected that group to be the quirky hunter’s werewolf Father-in-Law and six other members of his pack. 

It had been a tense meeting, but thankfully no one had left. All were focusing on their mutual goal, putting their differences aside for the greater good. It just went to show just how unwanted and out of touch the British Men of Letters were. Werewolves and hunters were lifelong enemies, but this pack, under the Reverend Myers leadership lived only on livestock and were no threat to humans and the gathered hunters respected that. These werewolves, or lycanthropes as they preferred to be called, were no danger to humanity. They didn’t deserve to be hunted, they deserved to be admired for their strength to go against their natural instincts, to not become the monsters they were feared to be. Even Roy and Walt, who at one time had murdered both Sam and Dean for the brothers' unwilling involvement in the apocalypse, understood the difference. Something the British Men of Letters could never do. They were the true monsters, the real evil and come the morning this small unexpected group would wipe that evil from the country. 

Nervously Sam rose to his feet and cleared his throat. “I want to thank you all for coming.”

The few conversations that had been going on, teetered out as the room turned its attention up to the tall man. 

“You all know why you’re here. Most of you have had encounters with, or heard about the British men of Letter by now. They’ve tried to rule over us, control us. They dazzle us with their flashy gear-”

“-And been told where to stick it,” Wally interrupted with a snigger.

“Right up their English channel,” Bucky added. The pair clicked their glasses together over the sound of the other hunters light laughter.

Sam waited for the laughter to die down, before continuing. “Right now, they have my brother... and there’s no telling what they are doing to him.”

From the angel’s position gazing out of the front window as a self-elected sentry, Sam saw, out of the corner of his eye, Castiel shift uncomfortably and he gave the angel a second to compose before continuing. “But this isn’t just about Dean. This is about us, all of us. Earlier today he got word to us that they’re not just looking to control us anymore. They’re looking to wipe us all out. We didn’t conform to their way of thinking and because of that, to them, we deserve to die.”

“Got word out, how?” Roy asked. Everyone turned to him as he carried on. “Look, just playing devil's advocate here, but I wanna know we’re not walking into a trap here.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Claire spoke up, glancing over to Castiel with a knowing look. “Dean prayed.”

The group followed the teens look and Castiel gave a small nod, confirming her theory. 

“Well, aren’t you just as handy as a candy flavoured multivitamin,” Donna beamed over to the angel. 

“Actually, taking multiple vitamins simultaneously is usually counterproductive,” Castiel deadpanned, his attention already returned to his lookout duty. 

“ **_Anyway_ ** ,” Sam emphasized, taking the conversation back before they could get further distracted from the issue at hand. “The point is we’re out of choices. If we don’t take the fight to them they’ll pick us off one by one until there’s none of us left. This isn’t just a rescue mission anymore. This isn’t us fighting for our rights. We’re fighting for our very existence.”

Most of the group cheered, raising their bottles or glasses and nodding in agreement to Sam’s speech, but Sam turned his attention to the werewolves who were silently listening. “If the British Men of Letters are successful in wiping us all out no supernatural being will be safe. Real hunting isn’t about killing, it’s about doing what’s right. They do not understand that. They will not care that you are good people, to them you are nothing but monsters who need to be put down and they will stop at nothing to rid the world of-”

“-You don’t have to convince us, Sam,” Jim interrupted, speaking for his whole group. “They came after my grandbaby. She’s not even two years old and has never hurt a soul.”

“And they call us monsters,” the youngest of the pack, a young woman who had been introduced as Tabatha griped, clearly beyond frustrated with the injustice of the situation.

“So this is a ‘better the devil you know’ deal for you then?” Walt asked accusingly.

“No,” Jim disagreed. “My Bess married a hunter. Most of you know, my son-in-law Garth. He considers you family, so by extension you are our family too and our family has already been torn apart by intolerance and hatred once before. We cannot, in clean conscious, sit idly by and let history repeat itself.”

“Great, so everybodies on board,” Claire said, clapping her hands together, she turned to Sam. “So what’s the plan?”

“Oh, no no no,” Jody quickly jumped in. “We’ve already discussed this. You aren’t coming.”

“Come on!” Claire hotly objected. “You can’t tell me I’m less capable than half these has-beens!” 

“I’ll have you know, young’en, that most of us have been hunting since you were nothing more than a twinkle in your Daddy’s eye,” Jerry stated matter-of-factly before Jody could reply.

Claire threw her arms up angrily and stormed from the room with heavy steps. A second later a door slammed hard enough to rattle the picture frames on the hallway walls. 

Jody closed her eyes, letting out a frustrated sigh as an awkward silence fell over the group. 

“Okay, so the compound is made up of what appears to be shipping crates, but we can expect high tech securities on the inside,” Sam began. “The outer gate won’t be a problem for Castiel. Once inside, we’ll devide into three groups so it will be harder to pinpoint our location. Cas will track down Dean and get him out while the rest of us will make our way into the heart of the compound...”

As the hunters and werewolves continued to plan, Castiel slipped away down the hallway. He knew the plan, there was no need for him to go over it again, but there was something that he had to do.

When he reached the door he was looking for he tapped politely, before poking his head inside. “Can I come in?” 

From her position sat up against the headboard of her bed, her legs stretched out crossed at the ankles, Claire eyed him, as she absently fiddled with the corner of her pillow. “Err, you kinda already are,” the teen stated curtly.

Castiel fidgeted at the threshold, unsure whether that was permission to enter or not. 

Claire rolled her eyes with an over dramatized huff but, taking pity on him, pulled her legs up to create a space at the foot of her bed. “Sit down, Castiel.”

With a click of the latch, Castiel closed the door behind him and crossed the room, perching himself stiffly at the end of the teens bed. 

“I suppose you’re gonna tell me that Jody’s just doing what she can to keep me safe,” Claire stated grumpily, her focus on her absently twiddling fingers. “And I should do as she tells me because she cares and-”

“-No.” Castiel interrupted, cutting off the teens one-sided assumptions and her head turned up to stare at the angel in surprise.

“I mean, of course she does, and you  _ should  _ listen, but,” Castiel quickly stammered out, flustered in his backtracking when he took in the curious judgement on the teens face, before sighing himself into silence. Taking a beat to compose himself. “That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Okay, so what is it?” Claire asked, looking suddenly unsure of herself. The sulky manner easing away to something more curious, yet hesitant. “Is this anything to do with how you’ve been acting since you got here?”

Castiel’s brow drew in as he looked over to her questioningly. “How have I been acting?”

Claire shrugged and pursed her lips. “I dunno, you just seem a bit...distracted and odd, kinda like you weren’t fully here, ya know?”

Cas nodded with a small smile. He did know, but he hadn’t realized his distraction and worry had shown outwardly. “You’re very observant.”

“Least I’m good for something,” Claire grumbled deflating against her pillows, her sulky attitude returning at the speed of light. 

“Claire, no one is doubting your abilities,” he stated, reassuringly. “We just want to keep you safe.”

“Thought you said you weren’t here to give me the ‘I’m too young to be a hunter’ speech.”

“I’m not.”

“Sounds like you are,” she argued. “I don’t understand why none of you all trust me.”

“Claire, if I didn’t trust you I wouldn’t be telling you this,” the angel told her gently. 

“Telling me what? You haven’t said squat,” Claire objected.

“You are making it exceedingly difficult,” Castiel said through clenched teeth. 

“Well, spit it out then!” she snapped, simultaneously crossing her arms and legs in a defiant manner. 

Castiel took a breath and a long moment to pause and think. He wanted to be completely truthful with Claire and she definitely had a right to know, but he had next to no experience talking to teens and worried that he was putting too much on the young woman. It needed to be handled delicately, and so far he was failing at it. 

“Claire, this is a very serious matter,” Castiel stated tonelessly, staring fixed at his hands clasped in his lap. “What I’m about to tell you, you cannot repeat to anyone, lives depend on it. I’m trusting you with this because I believe you have a right to know, but you have to keep it to yourself. No one else can know.”

He turned so he could hold Claire’s gaze, keeping his features serious, until the teenager nodded quickly. “Okay, I get it. I won’t tell a soul.”

Castiel paused while he took in the sincerity of Claire’s promise, before he blurted out with all the lack of tact that only the angel could manage, “Dean’s pregnant. With a half angel child. My child. A nephilim.” 

Claire's eyebrows had a head on collision high up her forehead, as her eyes widened in surprise. Not to be left out of the action, her jaw dropped agape.

Castiel waited patiently, giving the young girl a chance to process, knowing it was a lot, but hoping it wasn’t too much and hoping he hadn’t made a mistake. 

Several questions started to form on Claire’s lips, only to die before they had the chance to come out, before she eventually decided on, “But he’s...”

“A male,” Castiel finished for her, having already predicted that would be the first thing to be questioned. It had been the same for Dean and then Sam. “Gender is irrelevant when it comes to nephilim conception.”

“Oh, huh...that’s, um... that’s weird.” 

Again Claire fell into a stunned silence and Castiel took the opportunity to explain in greater detail. “Nephilim are the product of a human soul and angelic grace merging, they require DNA for the human half to form, but any gender can bear them. It’s extremely rare and highly outlawed by heaven, which is why it’s imperative that you do not repeat this to anyone.”

“Then why are you telling me?” Claire asked through a confused frown.

“Because I trust you,” the angel told her honestly, “and I thought you had a right to know, as the DNA was taken from my vessel, which means that our child will biologically be your sibling.”

Castiel didn’t think the teens eyes could get any wider, but somehow they did. “I’m going to be a... a sister?”

The angel nodded, watching the teen closely, unsure what her reaction would be. 

She could easily be angered that Castiel had used her father’s body and her family's genetics in the creation of the life growing within Dean, and she would have every right to. The long dead Jimmy Novak had had no say in what happened to him since the moment he’d said ‘yes’ to the angel. 

At the time Castiel had not considered the human’s life when he had taken his true vessel. All that had mattered was the mission to rescue the righteous man from hell. It was a just mission, an honor, and he had needed the strength that only a true vessel could provide him in order to give him his best chance of success. He hadn’t seen beyond the righteousness of the mission he had been blessed to be assigned. There had been no second guessing, no doubt and no consideration as to what it meant for the man that heaven had arranged to be his, or that of his family.

That mission had led him to the greatest point of the angel’s long life. It had led him to Dean. And through meeting the most loving human being Castiel would ever met, he had learnt what it meant to feel. But with that knowledge Castiel had also learnt the error of his ways. 

What he’d done to Jimmy and his family would always be his greatest regret. He could never make up for the wrongs he had done to the young girl, but maybe, just maybe the teen could take some comfort in knowing that through the angel she would have some family once again.

After a torturously long time, while Castiel waited on baited breath, Claire finally spoke. “Is that why Dean was taken?”

Castiel allowed himself a tiny half-smile. The teen was nothing if not unpredictable. “We believe so, yes. Men of Letter value knowledge and nephilim are very rare, it’s unlikely they would have had the opportunity to study them before.”

“That makes sense,” Claire said, immediately explaining when Castiel frowned in confusion. “I mean, they want us all dead, but they only captured Dean. It didn’t add up.”

Castiel nodded, impressed that it had been one of the youngest among the human beings that had been the only one to have noticed the hole in his and Sam’s explanation. “This is why it is imperative that you do not come with us. You have to stay here where you’ll be safe. Family is important and you are the only sister our child will ever have.”

“Then you shouldn’t be going either,” Claire shot back, challenging. “Father trumps sister and there’s more than enough going. They got a pack of werewolves for god sake.”

Castiel was shaking his head before Claire even finished. “I have to go. The compound is warding which is preventing Dean from leaving. I’ve found a charm to counteract its effects, but only an angel can get it into him. There’s no choice...but even if there was, I would go anyway. I could never abandon them.”

The angel met Claire’s eyes, where the teen seemed to be trying to decide something, before the teen nodded and, turning snatched up two little white devices that had been sat innocently on her bedside desk. “Gimme your phone,” she remained.

“What are they?” Castiel asked, handing over the requested cell.

“Hearing their prayers is good an’ all,” the girl explained, as her thumbs flew over the touch screen with a familiarity the million year old angel could only dream of. “But if you’re going to be going off on your own in there, you’re going to need a way for them to hear you as well.”

**xXxXxXxXx**

Dean sat against the wall of his cell with his head in his hands and tried to will himself not to cry. His eyes were red rimmed, as he fought back the threatening tears. The pregnancy hormones weren’t helping with his struggle, but he stubbornly refused to let a single one fall. He wouldn’t let them see him break, he just couldn’t. 

He had shouted after Bevelle ‘til he was horse and pounded on the divide until his fists were sore, but it had made no difference. He hadn’t seen her since she santered off, he hadn’t seen anyone. No one had come, or acknowledged his rage in any way, even to tell him to shut up. Eventually he had fallen silent, assuming that the cell must be soundproofed and that his hallering was only hurting himself.

In desperation he had sent out a frantic prayer to Cas, warning him that the British were coming for them and he needed to get himself and Sammy out of the bunker as soon as possible, it wasn’t as safe as they assumed. 

He could only hope that his prayers were actually reaching Cas. 

There was no way for him to know whether his prayers were being affected by the warding, in the same way that he was, due to the nephilim. If they weren’t getting through, it would explain why no one had come for him yet. They wouldn’t know where he was.

... It would also mean that they had no warning that they weren’t safe. 

The fear was a clutching pain that weighed on his chest, his mind plagued with concerns and unanswered questions. They were running out of time. If they didn’t get here before Bevelle made good on her promise to have him shipped off to England, how were they meant to get to him then?

Bevelle had said that the Doc wanted him lucid for whatever he had planned, so Dean knew that being sedated was not on the table. He would be fully aware when they came for him. It would be his only chance. He could fight back. Even if escaping the compound wasn’t possible with him trapped inside the warding, he could hold them up as much as possible and give Cas and Sam more time to get to him. 

This was only a temporary compound. The base back in their homeland would be far superior. If he didn’t get out before they shipped him away, he knew his chance of escape would go from bad to worse. Once in England he’d be more screwed than he already was. But what was the biggest risk? 

The only thing that held him back was the risk it put to the nephilim. If he fought back and took a jab to the gut during the struggle...Just the thought of his baby getting hurt brought tears to his eyes and made his chest hurt. He couldn’t risk that. He couldn’t risk hurting his and Cas’ baby.

His only hope was Sam or Cas getting to him in time, yet if the British Men of Letters had already gotten to the bunker... They could already be dead. 

Dread engulfed him and the long threatened tears started to fall. Without answers, without a plan he was doomed if he did, doomed if he didn’t. He was trapped, choiceless, running out of time and had no way of knowing if the life growing inside him was the only family he had left. 

He was still sobbing when his cell door slid open and two men entered. 

“The doctor will see you now,” one taunted. 

**xXxXxXxXx**

Castiel watched the humans busy about, preparing to leave and for the fourth time patted his trench coat, feeling the gem and the key to getting Dean out, safely tucked in the inner pocket.

While the hunters gathered explosives, guns and other weaponry, loading them into the various vehicles, he had everything he needed. It wouldn’t be long now.

The night had been long and drawn out while Castiel had stood guard over the resting humans, but soon they would be heading to Dean. Soon after that he would get the man out, and, if all went to plan, by that evening he would have his mate back safely in the bunker and there would be no one left who knew about their nephilim that would try to take him away again. 

“Castiel,” Jody called to him as he was heading to take shotgun in Baby alongside Sam, now they were all packed and ready to leave. “Will you ride with me?”

The sheriff climbed into her own vehicle, without waiting for an answer and curiously the angel followed. This had been the first time the angel was meeting the woman who’d adopted Claire and he wished it had been under different circumstances, because with all the people joining them and the planning he hadn’t had much chance to speak with her. 

They were barely out of the driveway, before Jody glanced his way, “There’s more to this than you and Sam are letting on isn’t there?”

Castiel swallowed hard and did his best to arrange his features into something vaguely resembling innocence. Claire knowing about the nephilim was one thing, the girl had a right to know, but the more that were aware the riskier it was for all. “I don’t understand what you mean.” 

“Look, Castiel,” Jody sighed out, “maybe I’m barking up the wrong tree, but I’m raising two teenagers and have been a cop for too long to not know when someone is hiding something from me and it certainly seemed that you’re more invested in this than you need to be. So I’m just gonna come out and say it. There’s something between you and Dean isn’t there?”

Castiel’s head snapped around catching Jody’s knowing side glance. Instantly he knew that he hadn’t schooled his features quick enough to make any kind of denial believable. “What gave it away?” he asked softly.

“Having eyes,” Jody replied bluntly, with a minute shrug. She pulled out onto the highway, keeping the impala and the other vehicles in their conveyor in her sight.

“I’m only going to say this once,” she continued, her tone deathly serious. “That man has been through enough, much more than his fair share. So, if you hurt him... I will stab you.”

Castiel couldn’t help the smile that split his face, deeply grateful that Dean had someone else in his life that was fiercely protective of him. He needed more people like that in his life, he certainly deserved it. 

“If I hurt him, I will provide you with the blade myself,” the angel promised.

**xXxXxXxXx**

“Do we really have to go through this every time?” Siverman moaned, holding his nose where Dean’s forehead had just collided with it as the Doctor had tried to remove the blood pressure cuff from Dean’s bicep and had gotten too close. 

Dean had no sympathy for him, or remorse for headbutting the man. 

Silverman gave Dean a wider berth, watching wearily as he moved around and lowered the head of the bed, laying Dean flat, before retrieving the ultrasound machine.

Dean tracked his every move and hoped that this time would be the same as the previous scan and the Doctor wouldn’t be sticking things up his ass in order to get a clear view. Though the speculum sitting on the tray of medical instruments the doctor had wheeled over made him doubt it, he couldn’t help but stare more fearfully at the syringes and extremely long needles laid out alongside. “What the hell do you think you’re gonna do with those?”

Silverman ignored him, favouring instead to set about his work, squeezing a large dollop of chilled gel onto Dean’s exposed abdomen.

“Hey, I’m talking to you, you son of a bitch!” Dean snapped as the Doctor moved the wand over his skin, spreading the gel and pushing firmly in towards his bladder.

The doctor with his sight firmly focused on the screen, didn’t respond straight away and seemed to debate whether or not to talk to Dean at all, before he finally spoke. 

“Before I clear you for travel, I need a sample from inside the womb,” Silverman stated clinically. “The good news for you is that with the position the Nephilim is currently in, we can go in through the abdomen and not rectally.”

“Oh yay for me,” Dean snapped out, hoping that his sarcasm would hide his growing fear. As much as he didn’t want the Doctor anywhere near his butt, as far as alternatives went, a needle through the stomach didn’t seem all that much better. 

Silverman snapped on a pair of medical gloves and draped a surgical sheet over Dean, leaving his stomach exposed through a hole in the middle. 

“You will need to keep very still, so you don’t risk hurting the Nephilim,” Silverman stated unemotionally, wiping the area with medicinal alcohol. 

“Don’t,” Dean pleaded, unable to hold back. His body jerked as he taught against the restraint holding him to the table. All thoughts of hiding his fear evaporating. He didn’t care about showing a weakness, he just couldn’t let that needle anywhere near his baby. “Please.”

“Keep still.” Holding the probe firmly in place, the Doctor reached for one of the needles.

Dean froze as he felt the tip of the needle come in contact with his stomach, his jaw tensed, hands fisted and breath held. He hated having to cooperate, and if it was just himself at risk he wouldn’t have even considered doing so. But he wouldn’t risk bringing harm to his and Cas’ baby. 

He screwed his eyes shut as the needle pierced the skin. 

**xXxXxXxXx**

Getting in was easier than Castiel had expected. The charm had allowed him to walk through the warding barrier without any pain or problems, in fact he had only felt a slight static buzz that allowed him to know he was through and nothing more. 

The two men that had been guarding the entrance were completely blindsided by an angel crossing their barrier and in their distraction, were taken out by a bullet from Donna and Sam’s respective guns. 

In keeping with the plan the hunters and Garth’s in-laws divided into two groups, to pincer into the heart of the compound and plant and set the explosives, while Castiel separated away tacking Dean through the network of corridors. His sole priority - get his mate out. 

He could sense the hunter’s presence, getting closer the further he went and it speeded his movements. 

**xXxXxXxXx**

Commotion outside the room, muffled by the locked door, caused the doctor to pause. Turning towards the sound as the raised voices became barked out commands Silverman frowned, absently placing down the needle and probe. 

“Wait there a moment would you?” 

“If you insist,” Dean snapped sarcastically at the doctor’s retreating back, rattling his restraints against the bed frame for added effect.

Dean tracked the Doctor’s movements until he moved out of his peripheral vision. The noises coming from outside briefly rose in volume as the door opened -Lots of shouted orders, suddenly followed by gunfire and what worryingly sounded unmistakably like growling- before the door slammed shut, distorting the chaotic noises once again. 

Craning his neck around, Dean strained to try see, but the door was obscured by the head of the medical table and completely out of his view. 

Dean tugged at his restraints, while trying to calm himself, so he could hear clearly over his ragged breaths and pounding heartbeats. The growling he had heard had put all his instincts on high alert. What else, besides him, were they keeping here? There was definitely gunfire going off, so whatever it was that was in the compound, clearly they were loose and putting up a fight. Strapped to a metal table and with no weapon, Dean had no way to defend himself. If whatever was out there got in through that door, he was a goner. 

He tugged harder at the restraints. If he could just get one hand free, he could - 

“Dean!” 

Dean froze. “Cas?” slipped from his lips in a stunned hopeful whisper, as he recognized that deep voice calling out to him, almost unable to believe he was hearing it. “CAS!”

A screech of metal and an echoing thud, told Dean that the door behind him had more than met its match and almost immediately after his Angel appeared at his side.

“Cas, you-” was all he managed to get out, before there were lips pressed firmly to his own and a strong palm cupping his check. At the same time Cas’ other hand slid down his arm, clasping around his bound wrist. With a jerk the restraints snapped. His second wrist was freed the same way moments after. 

“Gotta tell you Cas, you’re timing couldn't be better,” Dean beamed as the Angel moved down to the bottom of the bed and easily snapped off the ankle restraints. The metal hoops gave way as if they were made of paper under the Angel’s strength - and damn, Dean had forgotten just how strong Castiel was. 

“Are you alright? Can you walk?” Cas asked quickly, his voice and eyes full of concern, as he reached out to help Dean down off the table. 

Dean nodded quickly for both. Taking Cas’ offered hand, he tugged the angel close the moment his feet hit the floor. 

Castiel didn’t question it, and Dean could have kissed him for the, he just encircled him in his arms, fingers combing through the short strands of hair at the back of Dean’s head, his other hand running soothing strokes up and down his spine, bared through the gap in the hospital gown hanging off the hunter’s shoulders. 

It wasn’t the time or the place, but dammit he needed it, so he took a second to bask in the moment. To feel Cas, really there and pressed against his own chest, as he clung on tight like his life depended on it. 

Cas’ deep breath sighed over his exposed back and the angel pulled back fractionally only to press their lips together in a desperately searing kiss that had Dean’s heart upping its tempo. 

In the last- however long he had been held here, he hadn’t allowed himself to think of this. Lingering over the memories of what it felt like to be with Cas had only made their distance between them all the more noticeable and his incarceration all the more unbearable. But now safe in his angel’s arms he was free to think, and damn, he had missed this. 

“How long has it been, Cas?” Dean murmured against the angel’s lips.

“Too long, Dean,” Cas’ reply was mournful and steeped in regret. “Far too long.” 

All too soon, before he was ready, the moment passed and looking just as regretful as Dean felt, Castiel broke away. “We have to leave,” he said, sounding almost reluctant. 

“Cas, this place is warded. How-”

“-I know, I heard your prayer. It’s been taken care of,” the Angel replied, cutting Dean off before he could say anything further, as he quickly tugged off his trench coat and threw it around Dean’s shoulders. 

Castiel stepped over the demolished door, the heavy steel ripped from its hinges and tilted his head so he could peer out, holding his arm out in a clear signal for Dean to stay behind him. 

Dean slipped his arms through the sleeves, grateful that he wasn’t going to have to escape with his ass hanging out the back of the stupid gown and made to follow, pausing briefly only to grab the file that he had seen the doctor making notes in during every one of his conscious visits. They had precious little to go on with the pregnancy and he’d be damned if he had gone through all he had and not have something to show for it. Folding it, he slipped in inside the trench pocket and followed Cas out the door. 

The corridor outside looked like a scene from a gore flick. The precine base was tared harshly by the blood splattered up the walls, spreading all the way up to and across the ceiling. 

The tang iron smell of blood got stronger the further towards the exit and their escape that they got, the splattering of gunfire echoing around from all angles. 

“Sounds like you’ve got a whole army out there.”

“The British Men of Letters haven’t exactly been making many friends,” Cas replied, taking Dean’s hand to keep him close. “Finding allies wasn’t very difficult. Getting them here, however, took longer than I liked.”

“Better late than never, I-” Dean began, a flash catching his attention out of the corner of his eye. “Are those werewolves?”

“They prefer ‘lycanthropes’,” Castiel explained. “As I said, the British aren’t making many friends.”

“Garth’s family?” Dean gasped in dismay. “Shit Cas, you brought the whole cavalry.”

“Actually the cavalry is all Sam’s doing.”

Dean could practically taste the fresh air and the freedom it offered, as they rounded the corner and he collided into Cas’ back as the angel came to a sudden halt. Peering over Cas’ shoulder, Dean looked down the hallway and into the face of a man he hoped to never lay eyes on ever again. 

“You must be the angel father,” Doctor Silverman said calmly, from his position flanked either side by armed guards, before addressing Dean. “Mr Winchester, you know that if you leave with him, that thing inside you will kill you in a matter of months. Staying with us is your only chance to survive.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you,” Dean spat. “Considering you were just sticking needles in my gut.”

Castiel’s lips thinned, his body tensed. “Shut your eyes!”

“Now that’s not going to happen,” the doctor stated through a snigger, shaking his head in disbelief, as Castiel raised his hand, his palm and eyes lighting up brightly.

Dean lifted his head from the crock of his arm. Doctor Silverman’s corpse was slumped against the hallway wall, his eyes burned from their sockets. 

“He wasn’t talking to you,” Dean told the dead man, stepping over him to follow Cas out the door. 

The gravel outside stabbed the soles of his bare feet, but Dean didn’t care as he spotted his beloved impala waiting for him. His chariot from this hellhole. He ran for her, but stopped short when he realized his angel was no longer by his side.

Cas stood on the spot a few feet back, just inside where Dean knew the warding had once formed an impenetrable barrier, but it was gone. Cas had told him it had been taken care of and despite the nephilim, Dean had just walked through. There was nothing there, so what was the hold up?

“Cas? Come on,” Dean urged, trying to wave the motionless angel onwards. “What are you doing?” 

“It was the only way to get you out,” his angel told him sadly.

“What are you talking about?” Dean hurried back, only to find himself blocked by an invisible wall. With his palms flattened against nothing, he turned hurt accusing eyes to his angel. “What did you do?!”

“There’s an amulet inside the coat,” Cas confessed, nodding at his trench that Dean was now wearing. “It neutralizes the warding for the wearer. It’s how I got in, and how you got out.”

“You tricked me?” Dean said angrily, as he speededly patted down the coat, searching for the charm.

“I did what I had to. Now, please, Dean, you have to go. There’s not much time,” Cas urged, as Dean found the amulet and forcefully tugged it out from in the inner pocket.

Dean took a step back and threw the charm as hard as he could towards his trapped angel.

The charm disintegrated as it hit the warding. 

“One in, one out. That’s just how it works,” Cas said softly, as Dean shook his head in disbelief.

“You knew this would happen?”

“It was the only way we had to get you out,” Cas repeated. “I’ll be fine, but you need to go. Get our baby out of here. Now!”

Castiel steely gaze, demanding Dean’s departure would have made most people turn and run, even if they didn’t understand why. 

But Dean just stubbornly shook his head. “I’m not leaving here without you.”

Castiel broke his stare off with his defiant mate, as Sam’s voice sounded in his ear. “ _ Cas. Where are you? _ ”

“We’re out. We’re at the main entrance,” the angel replied, pressing the small bud tighter into his ear. “But Dean’s refusing to leave.”

“ _ We knew that would happen. I’m on my way _ .”

Hunters and werewolves alike, started pouring out, separating around the immobile angel. One of them tugged at Dean’s sleeve, “Come on, we’ve got to clear out,” and Dean thought he recognized Donna’s voice, but his eyes were fixed on Cas, who was staring back at him with pleading and apologetic eyes.

A strong arm was thrown across his chest, pulling him back, away from Cas. 

“Come on, Dean! We have to go!” Sam urged forcefully, dragging him towards the impala.

“Cas!” Dean fought against his brother, but being tugged backwards, he was off balance.

He was bundled inside. The doors slammed shut and Baby sped away, his angel becoming smaller as the distance between them grew.

“We’re clear...Good luck.”

Dean threw himself across the seat and ripped the bluetooth out of his brother’s ear, jamming it into his own just as quickly. “Cas, whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t!”

Nothing but silence came back through the earpiece. 

“Cas?”

The car rocked as a deafening boom shook the road beneath them.

Dean could do nothing but stare in wide eyed horror out of the rear window as smoke formed a mushroom shaped cloud, rising up to the sky from where Cas and the British Men of Letters compound had been only seconds before. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter fought me every step of the way, but I hope the extra length makes up for the time delay.   
> As always please let me know your thoughts, or questions.   
> Stay safe all  
> SGsVamp xXx


	12. It's All Over Now

**Chapter Twelve**

**It’s All Over Now**

“Cas, you stupid son of a bitch.” 

Dean scrubbed his hand roughly down his cheeks, trying to rid himself of the thick stream of tears that were starting to cloud his vision. 

They had been searching the bomb site for hours now. The day had edged passed and the sun had started to set. Most of the fire had gone out, but a few still smoldered amongst the wreckage, providing only dim light for the ongoing fruitless search for the missing angel. 

When they had first returned to the blast site, Dean was half expecting to see Cas emerge from the flames like some true born Targaryen. The dude could survive a fall from heaven, an explosion was nothing in comparison. ‘ _Surely_ .’ And the fire, well unless it was dosed with holy oil, that was no threat to the Angel either. ‘ _Right_ ?’ Cas might get tossed around, maybe have his clothes burnt, or get a bit singed, but he would live through it. ‘ _Wouldn’t he_?’

He pulled his flannel tighter around himself as the cooling April evening started to nip at him, grateful that the emergency duffel he kept in the trunk of the Impala had a spare set of clothes so he hadn’t had to search dressed in that damn backless hospital gown. Ignoring the remaining tears, Dean stared out across the rubble. Scanning for any sign of his Angel, his eyes darting to any movement, as his imagination played cruel tricks on him, turning the flickering shadows into wisps of dark hair or charred clothing. 

“Dean?”

The expression on Sam’s face when he looked up chilled him. He knew that look. It was the same one Sam always wore when he was reluctant to say something Dean wasn’t going to like, but was going to say it anyway. 

“We’ve been looking for hours. He’s -” Sam cut himself off as Dean turned a hard glare into a warning. 

“Maybe we should get back to the bunker,” Sam said softly, after a beat. The concern for his brother, so apparent in his voice, as he spoke hesitantly, as if addressing a spooked child. “Or maybe we can find a motel nearby,” Sam continued, passively, “and we can look again in the morning.”

“Great plan. Hell of a plan,” Dean snapped in angered sarcasm. “Much better than your previous one of leaving Cas behind to get blown up!” 

Sam’s lips became a thin line as he refrained from bitchfacing and kept silent. There was little point in repeating that as an angel, Castiel should have survived the explosion, or that it had been the only option they had to get Dean out. And he certainly wasn’t going to mention that once they had the charm Castiel wouldn’t take no for an answer. Dean already knew all of this, Sam had already told him, multiple times, but Dean just wasn’t going to accept it. He wasn’t accepting any of it. 

Dean would stay all night and probably all the next day if left to his own devices. He had already stayed and searched for longer than necessary. They’d combed through the site and the area surrounding multiple times. 

Castiel wasn’t there.

To start with, those among the hunters that hadn’t required medical attention had stayed behind to help search for their missing comrade. What was left of the compound had been surrounded with people calling out to the angel, until the fires died down enough for them to start searching more thoroughly... That had been hours ago. 

As the day had passed, their group had lessened, as each of them started to realize that they were searching in vain. 

But Dean had refused to leave. 

Jody had been the last to go, having to get back to the girls, but not before she had firmly demanded that Sam promise to take care of his brother because, in her words, Dean looked like shit. Sam couldn’t disagree. 

Due to his morning sickness, Dean hadn’t been in the best shape before he’d been kidnapped, and by the look of him the last two weeks hadn’t made him any better. He had definitely dropped a few pounds in weight and the bags under his eyes were threatening to become suitcases. But it was the mental strain that Sam was most concerned with. 

As the day had passed and their hope to find the angel ebbed away, the more tearful the pregnant man had grown and there was nothing Sam could do to ease his brother's pain. He knew that nothing short of finding the angel would soothe him, but he couldn’t magically make Castiel appear. He couldn’t even explain where Castiel was, or what had happened to him, because if everything had gone as planned, they should have found him already. 

“Dean...You need to rest and eat something.” He couldn’t take away his emotional pain, but he could at least try to take care of Dean’s physical well-being. “If not for you, then for the baby,” Sam pleaded.

Dismissively, Dean turned away, but Sam was right, and he knew it. Thanks to the doctor’s overzealous sedatives and forced feeding, he had no idea when he had last eaten, or slept properly, yet it wasn’t ‘til his brother had mentioned it that he noticed just how hungry and tired he felt. 

He didn’t have the luxury of ignoring his basic needs. His baby needed him to take care of himself. But he didn’t want to leave. Because leaving meant giving up and accepting, without reason or explanation, that Cas was gone.

“Come on,” Sam urged softly, gently pulling him away, and for his child, Dean reluctantly let himself be led to the waiting impala. 

Sam’s heart ached as, instead of going around to the drivers side, Dean climbed numbly into the passenger seat without argument, or even comment. Reaching over into the backseat, Dean pulled Cas’ trench-coat from where he had lovingly folded it earlier when he had changed, and tucked it under his head resting it against the window as a substitute pillow. 

Sam blinked his own tears away at the sight. He couldn’t cry. He needed to be strong right now, for his brother. 

He started the engine. 

**xXxXxXxXx**

The gentle rocking, the comforting purr of Baby’s engine and Dean’s overall exhaustion should have sent him off to sleep fairly quickly... but it didn’t. 

Sam had stopped at the first place he had found and purchased something for them both to eat. Dean hadn't tasted it, or even registered what it was. He’d just robotically forced it down under his brother’s concerned and watchful eye. 

Whatever it had been, it sat heavily in his unsettled stomach, but with one down, one to go, he had nestled himself against the door, Cas’ trench clenched tight in his grip and hoped that maybe his angel’s scent would ease him into a much needed sleep. 

It hadn’t taken him long to realize that it was futile. He was kidding himself. Any reminder of his angel wasn’t going to be soothing in that moment, it was only going to serve to remind him of the stabbing longing in his chest that he was trying, and not quite managing to push away from the front of his thoughts.

He kept his eyes closed, feigning sleep, so Sam would stop with the worriedly pitying looks, or at least Dean wouldn’t be able to see them, but in the blackness behind his close lids his mind swam, remembering when he had hung on to Cas’ coat once before. 

It wasn’t the same trench-coat as the one Cas had left behind after being obliterated by the leviathans. Cas had lost that first one at some point after the fall. Dean didn’t know when, or how, Cas had never told him and Dean had never asked. But the one being clung to like a toddler’s security blanket was not the original that he had transported from vehicle to vehicle, for weeks after weeks, because he had known deep, deep down in his gut that at some point he would get the chance to give it back to the angel. 

Would he get the chance again? 

...Or had their luck run dry?

Would Chuck bring him back once more? Or would the god be too distracted with making amends with his sister to spare a thought for a son that he had barely had the time of day for, or even spoken to when they had finally met in person.

He pushed the thought aside. He couldn’t get caught up in despair. His baby needed him to rest. He had to knuckle down, even if it wasn’t going to happen, he owed it to the child to try. He would be a better parent than any of the nephilim’s grandparents ever were to their sons. 

He focused on his breathing, the sound of the wind rushing by, the tranquil sway as Baby sped him towards home. Trying to soak in the soothing vibes and let them gently loll him to sleep... and it may have worked if the sound of Sam’s phone insistently ringing hadn’t disturbed him a little while after. 

He kept his eyes closed, as the buzzing echoed loudly through the car, and wished that Sam would just hurry up and answer it already, before his concentration was completely broken.

Thunk. 

“Shit.”

He wrenched open one eye, peeking over to see what the problem was. Sam was leaning forward, his arm hooked under the seat where the ringing was now coming from.

Dean huffed in annoyance and leant over, fishing out the phone from where Sam had evidently dropped it under his seat, but before he could hand it over, he caught the caller's name lighting up the screen.

‘Castiel’

The phone was answered and to his ear in less time than a heartbeat. 

“Cas?”

“ _Dean. Are you alright_?”

As relief at hearing his Angel’s voice washing through him, Dean couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at the absurdity of Cas’ question. He had just spent the best part of the day potentially searching for the Angel’s corpse and the first thing he’s asked is if _Dean_ is okay. “I am now,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Where are you?”

“ _Iowa_.”

“Iowa?” Dean repeated, mainly for Sam’s benefit, who gave him a puzzled look, but didn’t question it, just turned the Impala around in the road and headed back the way they had come. “How the hell are you in Iowa?”

“ _I banished myself_.”

Dean blinked rapidly, his brow dipping down. “Why?” 

“ _I couldn’t risk being pushed through the warding when the bomb went off_ ,”

Dean’s grip on the phone tightened. “What?”

“ _I said, I used a banishing sigil_ -”

“-I heard what you said!” Dean snapped impatiently. “I wanna know what the hell you’re going on about.”

“ _If the bomb had detonated and I had been caught in the explosion and pushed into the warding, before the explosion could take it out, I don’t know what could have happened, but I didn’t want to find out, so I banished myself first, before the bomb went off._ ”

“That was a risk?” Dean hollored, his face reddening by the second. “And you didn’t think to mention that to anyone?”

**xXxXxXxXx**

“’m gonna kill ‘im.”

Sam's eyes rolled skyward and turned his focus out of the side window. Not that he could see much, the half moon did little to illuminate the wide field the road they were on ribboned through. It had been the fifth time Dean had threatened that very action, or similar, in the last few hours during their drive into Iowa. Sam had stayed muted as Dean went off on his one sided rant, as he maneuvered Baby down the winding roads at speeds a stunt driver would envy.

Dean was sitting forward in the seat, stoney-faced and on edge, his eyes solely focused on the part of the road that Baby's headlights plucked out of the darkness.

“’m gonna kick his ass...” 

Shortly after Castiel’s unexpected, but deeply relieving phone call, Dean had demanded to drive when, in his words ‘Sam’s old lady driving was taking too long’ and not wanting to antagonize him further Sam had pulled over for them to swap places, hoping that it would at least help to calm his brother down. Dean usually looked so relaxed in the driver's seat. Completely in his element, a flawless symmetry of man and machine. Right now however, he looked as tensed as a coiled spring, ready to pop at the slightest provocation.

Despite the anger, Sam was absolutely certain that the threats Dean was throwing around were empty. His brother just wasn’t seeing straight right now. The day had been too much of a whirlwind of emotions for the pregnant and hormonal man to fully process. 

The relief of finding out Castiel was alive and well had been short lived. Quickly replaced with an irate fury with knowing that not only had the painstaking long and desperate search - during which Dean had grown more and more hopeless and withdrawn - and the grief and guilt he had felt as he was reluctantly pulled away, had been completely in vain. Because the angel had been long gone by the time they had returned, but also, and more importantly Castiel hadn’t warned anyone as to what he had done in advance. Castiel’s plan to stay behind inside the warding so that Dean and the nephilim would be able to be freed, was under the misguided notion that the angel would be in no danger whatsoever. While the humans would get clear, Castiel would simply wait for the explosion to take out the warding and then rejoin them. Finding out that because of the warding Castiel may have been just as vulnerable as the rest of them caught in the explosion was a very bitter pill to swallow, and one Dean was not taking lightly.

“...and break his fucking jaw.”

Not lightly in the slightest. 

But Sam kept his own council, knowing that voicing any reason with Dean right now would be fighting a losing battle. 

He needed to vent out his fear and clear his head. It had been a day filled with a roller-coaster of emotion; fear, relief, dread, horror, panic, hopelessness, grief, guilt, relief again. The unexpected twists and ups and down were sure to make his head spin. And like usual, when Dean emotions were too raw for him to handle, he favored towards anger. 

They were getting close to where the GPS was telling them was Castiel’s location based on the information the angel had given them and Sam hoped that Dean would calm down enough before they arrived.

“Then I’ll get him to heal my fist, so I can break his nose as well.”

Sam pinched his lips together, to silence the chuckle as the image of his brother needing the angel’s help in order to carry out his threat, lodged itself in his mind.

At least Dean was starting to see some form of rationality. Of the very few times Dean and Castiel had actually come to blows in the past, it had only been when Dean was under the influence and strengthened by the mark of Cain that Dean had come out on top, though that may also have something to do with Castiel’s reluctance to hurt Dean that had lead the angel into not fighting back. So even if Dean did carry out what he was threatening - which Sam wholeheartedly doubted - it would be unlikely that Castiel would come to any actual harm.

“‘M gonna-” Dean broke off, as the headlights plucked the image of Cas out of the darkness, his white shirt shining out in sharp contrast to the dark suit usually masked by his trench-coat. 

The second Baby came to a jolted stop, Dean was out, leaving the door wide open and the engine idle. He strode towards Cas in long purposeful strides and clamped his hand firmly down on Cas’ shoulder, fisting the material, holding the Angel at arms length.

“Dean?” Cas’ eyes were laser locked on his, full of confusion and concern, but Dean couldn’t think about that now. His head was too full of his own anger and relief as the fear washed out of him in an almost dizzying wave, leaving him near breathless as he gripped Cas’ jacket and shirt collar tightly. His hand tightening as if afraid the angel would disappear again the second he let go.

“I’ve just spent two weeks being prodded, poked and probed,” Dean stated, jabbing an open hand into Cas’ sternum, while he glared hotly. “And the worst part of it by far was the time I just spent thinking you were...you were-”

His voice wavered and he broke off to stare skyward, chewing on his lip while he got back hold of himself. When his eyes drifted back down he found Castiel’s mouth had fallen slightly open, his eyes turning remorsefully wide. “It was not my intention to cause you worry.”

“I know that Cas, but it’s not the point,” he said, shaking his head dismissively. Yes, over the course of the day he’d been sugar dipped in more worry than he cared to remember, but the root of Dean’s anger ran far deeper. Cas couldn’t play fast and loose with his life anymore. Neither of them could, because it wasn’t just about them anymore. There was another life that they were responsible for. 

“We’re going to be parents, Cas. Everything we do directly affects him... If you’d-” He couldn’t finish, didn’t want to voice what he had feared had become his reality. “...What would have happened to him, huh? He’s not even born yet and he’s got people poking at him to see how he ticks and heaven after him... I can’t do this without you.”

“Dean,” Castiel sighed out sorrowfully, his eyes saddening at the sight of so much anguish troubling his mate’s features. “You’re right. I should have recognized the risks sooner, but having you gone - being parted from you and our child... It was unbearable. I couldn’t think straight. It was only once I knew that you both were safe that I realized the danger.”

“I get it,” Dean stated with a nod. Who was he to judge what length the angel would go to in a desperate moment. Or how hard it was to keep your head when your whole world had fallen in and collapsed in on itself. But he couldn’t let them fall victim to the same mistakes that had happened before them. They had to learn from the past. His mother had sold out. A noble and desperate act to save his dad, but it had led to the downfall of their whole family. He would not allow their baby to pray victim to similar circumstances, not while he still drew breath...and maybe not even after then. “We have to do better than our parents, Cas,” Dean told him forlornly. “....We just have to.”

“We will,” Cas promised, his words as solid as a vow, eyes shining in sincerity that only Dean’s angel could muster. “I’m not going anywhere, Dean.”

Under Cas’ gaze, and hearing the words he didn’t realize he needed so badly to hear until he heard them, Dean melted. His anger, fear and uncertainty washing out of him like sand from an hourglass. His angel understood, with only the merely mentioned concerns uttered through angered accusation Cas got all that he had barely managed to come to grips with himself. Cas saw through his protective walls right to the heart of the matter. Dean wasn’t angry, he was deathly scared. Not that he would ever show it, not fully. But with Cas he didn’t need to. His angel understood.

His grip on Cas’ collar tightened as he tugged, his eyes closing, until their lips came together. 

It felt like coming home.

With a soft, reluctant sounding sigh, Cas pulled back fractionally. “Can I?” he asked softly, his hand gesturing downwards towards Dean’s midsection.

“Yeah, sure,” Dean pulled his flannel aside. As much as he wanted to keep kissing his angel to his heart content, Cas had been parted from his child for far too long and Dean reasoned that it was only natural and even necessary for the angel to see with his own two eyes - or mojo - just how their nephilim was getting on in there.

Cas’ hand slipped beneath Dean’s clothing, palming low on his abdomen, barely stilling before a warm tingly sensation seeped into him, as the angel’s eyes dropped closed, his brow furrowing in concentration.

Without being aware that he was doing so, Dean held his breath. He was sure their baby was alright, hadn’t allowed himself to consider the alternative. While he was being held captive with no way to change any outcome it would only serve to drive him into despair to let that sort of morbid thinking in, but now with his angel so close he was safe to let those fears float to the surface. It had been so long since he had seen his baby on the sonogram screen, and he hadn’t been afforded that luxury since. He’d lost count on how many checks and procedures he’d been forced to endure under the doctors 'care’ and that wasn’t factoring in the amount of times he’d been sedated with no idea what had happened during. 

Cas tensed, his frown encroaching inward, marginally. If Dean hadn’t been so focused on any visual clues he would have missed it entirely, but hyper-aware he was on it like a shot.

“What? What’s wrong?” he gasped out in sudden panic. He was sure the needle hadn’t gone in far enough to reach the baby, let alone hurt him... but what if he was wrong? The sudden stunned expression that had completely taken over the angel’s features wasn’t filling him with confidence that he’d had only moments before. “Is he okay?”

Cas’ eyes flitted open and raised up to meet Dean’s. A broad grin blooming on his face. “He’s perfect, Dean...He’s - He’s grown.” 

“He?” Dean questioned speedily, picking up on Cas’ wording like a bloodhound hot on the trail. 

“You said ‘he’ first,” Cas countered. 

“But I can’t see him!” Dean reason right back. “I’m just going off basic high-school biology here. With two X Y parents, chances are only one in three of us having a girl. I’m just playing the odds. But you - you can see it.”

“I can’t see that, Dean,” Cas stated, with a small almost apologetic shake of his head, as if not being able to confirm Dean’s belief for certain caused the angel stress. “I don’t know if it’s too early or if I even will be able to tell, but right now I have no more insight than you do.” 

“It doesn’t matter, Cas,” he said, kissing the look off of his face. “As long as he’s healthy.”

“He is,” the angel said confidently. “You both are.”

**xXxXxXxXx**

Glancing out of the impala windshield at the reunited couple, Sam sighed out in relief all the tension that he’d held in recently and smiled. 

The British Men of Letters were gone, they had Dean back and Cas was alive. 

It was all over. 

Maybe now things could get back to normal.

...Well, as normal as things could get for a supernatural hunter whose brother was knocked up by an Angel of the lord. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look at that. No cliffhanger this time ;) 
> 
> As always any thoughts an opinions are highly encouraged. Thanks in advance. SGsVamp xXx
> 
> Edit: Anyone wondering why this is now a chapter less, it's because I changed the prologue to be included in chapter one. On the plus side, it means the numbers giving match those I've written (which was frustrating me to no end), but on the down side it mean the comments left on the prologue were deleted. Only mentioning it, because I didn't want those who left comments there to think that I deleted them, or I didn't appreciate them. I did and I was sorry to see them go xXx


End file.
